


Dying Tickles

by L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: First story, Little Romance, Lotta Humor, Multi, Self-Insert, Some adventure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 127,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14391978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n/pseuds/L3t_U5_D0_That_Aga1n
Summary: An unlucky guy, Garret is pulled into the dark and depressing world of Dark Souls. As such, he decides to do the only sane thing one can do in such a situation, change the story for the better.





	1. Chapter 1

Dying Tickles Chapter 1:

Let’s have an Adventure

**Author’s Note: Hello world. Let’s Do That Again here with my first ever story. I needed something to do after school got out and decided to write Fanfiction. And my first story is about a dude sucked into a video game, yay.**

**Moving on:**

**Dark souls is owned by From Software, and I am giving a shout out to VaatiVidya and Silvermont, two youtubers who like to make Dark souls lore videos, and where I draw a lot of my inspiration from.**

“Talking”

“ _Thoughts”_

**_“Demon/deity speech”_ **

**Line Break (so clever)**

 

“Hmm…hmm…zzzzz…o-oh man, do I not feel good.”

 

Garret was cranky. He had stayed up till 3:00 am to finish his AP Lang paper, and now his head feels like a cement mixer. “Ooh man, my head” he groaned, rubbing his temples, “I knew I shouldn’t have drunk all those Monsters. I feel like-what am I wearing?”

 

Normally Garret goes to bed in what he wore that day. Last night, that was some faded jeans and a TeamFourStar “Get Dumped” T-shirt. Now he sees that he is wearing some sort of robe, gloves, stange looking boots and a hat. “…I don’t remember taking anything last night… Maybe I’m still dreaming, yeah, that’s probably it, still-“

 

 ***THUD** *****

At that moment a corpse fell on the floor. Craning his head up, Garret could see a man in armor gazing down at him before nodding and moving away. Garret recognized the scene, how could he have not, it’s part of the opening for one of his favorite games ever, _“but that’s insane, I mean, come on, what are the odds that I’m actually in Dark So-”_

 

At that point he got a good look at his arms, brown and course, as opposed to the usual tan and wiry. Shakily, he took off a glove to see a brown and frail hand. He reached for his face and felt what he could only describe as wrinkly leather over bone. He reached under his robe to feel the left side of his chest, and he could feel rope like protrusions all along his pectoral.

 

“…I-I-I don’t have any nipples. Haha. Okay, funny time over, let’s gather some facts. One. I am in the Undead Asylum. Two. Oscar just dropped down a body with what can only be the key out of here. Three. I am a sorcerer if the hat is any indication. Okay, let’s do this.”

 

Garret got up to get a closer look at the body. As it turns out, the key was glowing a pale blue on the corpse. “Hmm, well that’ll make things easier to find.” Picking up the key he moved toward the door, and noticed that he had the straight sword hilt on him. “I don’t need this” he said as he tossed it to the floor.

 

Moving across the hall he had to stop and gag as the stench of the room assaulted his nose. “Uggh geez, if this is where virtual reality wants to go, you can count me out.” Forging on he took notice of the demon patrolling the room next to him. Upon realizing that he would have to fight that things cousin upstairs he shivered and hurried to the ladder to reach the bonfire.

 

Upon reaching the bonfire he paused, not really knowing what to do. _“I guess I should just hold my palm up to it and wait”_. He did that, and the bonfire did not respond. “Oh come on, light dammit!” he shouted to the bonfire. Nothing happened. “…Please…?”  The bonfire burst into life. “Thank you”.

 

He decided that now would be a good time to see what special item he got as his gift. Upon rummaging in his satchel, which he managed to stick his whole arm down, he found the old witch’s ring. “Oh, great, now I can feel extra guilty when conversing with Quelaan. Whatever, better than the pendent”.

 

Deciding he had wasted enough time, he moved on to open the large door in front of him. _“I must be a lot stronger than I was before because my arms should have given out long ago”_ he idly thought as he opened the iron door. Moving in he gazed up and saw the asylum demon. It jumped down with a crash before glaring at him. He yelled out “COME AT ME BRO!” and booked it for the gate on the left wall.

 

He almost made it, but then the demon swung its hammer and hit his back. Thankfully, the hit knocked him clear into the hall as the gate shut closed behind him, but that was a small comfort compared to the pain roaring across his spine.

 

“OH GOD OH GOD! ERRORS WERE MADE! ERRORS WERE MADE!”

 

He managed to crawl his way to the bonfire and held his palm to it. It refused to light. “Is this going to be a regular thing!?”, thankfully for Garret, the bonfire lit up and he felt a calm wave pass over his body and heal his wounds. “Ohhh yeah. Is this what morphine feels like, cause I love it” he moaned out.

 

After getting basking in the fire until its effects wore off he moved to the archway where a hollow was waiting at the end of the walkway to shoot him full of arrows. “Okay, should be simple enough, grab my shield, hold it and run up to the hollow, grab my dagger, and shank the jerk in the gut”.

 

He ran in, rolled under an arrow, grabbed his shield, and ran towards the hollow. It fled to the stairs on the left, but Garret made short work of it with his new dagger.

 

Moving up the stairs he headed to the right and, with mush hesitation, moved up the next flight of stairs.

 

 ***RUMBLE** *****

_“And there is it”._ He dove to the left and fell flat on his face. But all was good as he would soon gain the Estus flask for some bonfire on the go.

 

Upon entering the room he saw a pitiful sight, Oscar, all decked out in his armor, was wheezing heavily on the pile of rubble he managed to fall on.

 

“Oh you” Garret heard Oscar rasp out “you’re no hollow eh? I’m done for I’m afrai-“

 

“Quiet Oscar, Knight of Astora” Garret told him.

 

At this Oscar paused, “How do you-?”

 

“Know your name and title? Simple, I have the gift of…foresight. I know a lot of things.”

 

“Ah, so you are a chosen of the gods?”

 

“Not these gods” Garret muttered.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing, just drink your Estus, both of us are getting out of here alive.”

 

“But-” Oscar wanted to argue that he had nothing left for.

“But nothing” Garret cut him of. “Your family believes in a prophecy right, that an undead from the asylum will somehow save the land. Well that’s me, and as the Chosen Undead I say you are coming with me”.

 

“What would you want with an almost dead knight like me?” Oscar queried.

 

“You have a magic sword and shield and are more versed in combat than me, a simple scholar. Now, are you going to drink your flask, or am I going to have to help you chug it down?”

 

“No, no,” Oscar said “I am fine.” He drank his flask dry and stood up. “Now, you know my name, but I don’t know yours”.

 

“My name if Garret of Eearth”.

 

“I have never heard of this Eearth?”

 

“Not surprising. We like to keep to ourselves. Now, you should have the key to unlock the door down there. Lets refill the flack and then head on up”.

 

As the both moved for the bottom set of stairs Garret felt his bag rustle. He paused to see what was going on and pulled out the Estus flask Oscar had just finished.

 

“Is that my flask?” Oscar asked.

 

“Yeah… Hold on, let me try something”. Garret pulled off his hat and stuffed it in his bag. “Okay, Oscar, check your bag”. Sure enough Oscar pulled out the hat from his bag.

 

“How peculiar” Oscar noted.

 

“Shared item storage, that’ll come in handy” Garret said. “Come on, we got things to do”.

 

While at the bonfire Garret was drawing shapes in the dirt with his dagger and Oscar was checking his armor to see if it was all fine after crashing from the roof via hammer. He then asked Garret “Garret, you have the gift of sight no?”

 

“Yeah, what of it?”

 

“Can you also look into the past?”

 

Garret then turned to look directly at Oscar. He sighed, “I have a limited view of the past yes”.

 

“Then, do you know what started all this, the undead curse and all?”

 

Garret then looked to the sky. “…Oscar” he eventually started “I can give you an answer to your question, but to do so I would need to explain a lot of backstory that, frankly, I don’t have the patience to do right now.”

 

“But you do know”.

 

“Yes. And to reiterate, I am not telling you at this moment…When we have neared the end of out journey, I will tell you, and everyone else, what you want to know. But you may not like”.

 

“Everyone else?”

 

“Oh yeah, I plan on having at least 5 members in this part, all with a purpose. Now come on, we got us a demon to kill”.

 

As they moved up the stairs, Garret had a thought “Follow me Oscar”.

 

Garret led Oscar to the opposite stairwell, which had crumbled to disrepair. Garret tried to climb up the shambled staircase, but it crumbled even more under his weight. “Well never mind then” he said, and started to go back down the correct path.

 

Oscar felt compelled to ask “And what was that for?”

 

Garret replied “Oh nothing, thee is just a ring up there that will be useful later on, but I can always grab it on the return trip”.

 

“Return tri-you mean to come back here, for a ring?”

 

 “Not just that, a doll too. And maybe to kill the other demon in the basement.”

 

Oscar had stopped moving and was staring dumbly at Garret. “You’re mental”.

 

“Well this is an asylum” Garret retorted.

 

“…Let’s just get out of here.”

 

At the foot of the stairs Garret stopped Oscar. “Okay so there is going to be one hollow up these stairs waiting for us. From there we will have three more hollows to contend with, one of which has a bow and some arrows. Now, a catalyst for sorceries is going to be up there, so I need to grab that. You lead”.

 

“Why should I lead?”

“You have better armor, a better shield, and a much better weapon than me” Garret deadpanned. “As well as more experience in martial combat”.

 

“Point taken…Let’s go”.

 

Oscar made short work of the hollow at the top of the stairs with a slice across the chest and ran outside. Garret quickly followed to get his catalyst. Oscar had just finished off the two hollow by the fog door and was moving on to the one with the bow, but then he heard a * **PING** * and a flash of blue light sailed over his shoulder and onto the hollow, which then fell into a heap.

 

Garret then walked up to Oscar. “Thank you” Oscar said.

 

“Don’t mention it. Now, beyond that fog is the room where I left the demon. There is a small ledge when we exit the fog. You are going to jump down it and stab the thing in the head. Then you hop off and slash at its feet and butt.”

 

“And what shall you be doing as I risk my life?”

 

“Shooting at that thing from the ledge with my spells. After all, my dagger isn’t going to do much.”

 

Oscar just glared at him before conceding that Garret would be more useful shooting off spells.

 

“Oh, and don’t bother trying to block its hammer. Just two-hand your weapon and dodge the swings, they are pretty easily telegraphed”.

 

“I shall take that into consideration”.

 

Entering the fog gate, Oscar looked down the small ledge he was on and immediately hopped off to stab the demon in the eye. Het missed its eyes, but still got a good hit, before hopping off and rolling away. The process of slash and roll repeated for a bit until the demon took a large swing with its hammer, and Oscar moved to block it. When it impacted, he flew back several feet and felt like he tried to stop a bull. “ _Maybe I should follow his advice and just focus on dodging”_ and moved his shield to his back so he could hold his sword with both hands.

 

Garret meanwhile was hitting the demon repeatedly with soul arrows. _“This is actually pretty boring when I’m not on the ground; just aim, shoot_ , _and_ _repeat. Nothing to i- why is it right under me?”_ While mindlessly shooting off spells Garret failed to notice the demon had moved away from Oscar and back towards the ledge. “…Balls”.

 

The Demon leapt into the air, hammer poised to crush Garret to a pulp. Lucky for him, he rolled of just in time to avoid the attack, but still hurt himself on the fall.

 

“Are you alright Garret?”

 

“OH YEAH! I’M FEELING FINE! NOW LETS KILL THIS THING! Oooh my legs”.

 

At that cue Oscar rushed the Demon while Garret drank from the flask. Not a moment too soon to as the demon barely missed Garret with another swing. He pulled out his dagger in his right hand, with his catalyst in his left and moved in to strike. Oscar ran up with a slash at its legs, while Garret to stab it in. Then the demon beat its wings and hovered into the air. Knowing what was about to happen, Garret charged up a shot to hopefully kill it before it the ground. It worked. The arrow flew off and went right through the demon. It disappeared in a flash of light and a key dropped down below it.

 

“Good shot” Oscar complimented.

 

“Thanks” Garret replied, “That was my last soul arrow too. Come on I got the key, lets get out of here”. The two exited the building and started heading up the hill. They soon reached the top of the hill. “Hey Oscar” Garret asked “Are you afraid of heights?”

 

“A little” he confessed, trying not to look down the cliff, “why do you ask?”

 

“No reason. Just don’t open your eyes for the next few minuets, or hours, I don’t know how long this will actually take”.

 

“What are you-BY THE GODS!” At that moment a pair of giant crows descended on the two, grabbing one each. And so their epic quest truly begins

 

**Author’s Note: There you have it, my first chapter of my first story.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!
> 
> If you're reading this, you've decided my story was worth a damn, Thanks!
> 
> Anyway, I originally posted this story on FF.net, and I've finally gotten my AO3 account set-up, so now I begin the long process of cross-posting/choosing what stories to cross-post.
> 
> But FF.net is still my main, so if you want to see what other stories I've written that I didn't want to copy/paste onto here, check out 'Let's Do That Again' over there.


	2. Chapter 2

Dying Tickles Chapter 2:

It Ain't Fair

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" ** _Demon/deity speech"_**

**LINE BREAK**

Lordran, land of the gods and their people. Founded after the mighty Gwyn and his armies defeated the dragons and brought forth the age of fire. Such a magnificent place.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

"WOOOOOHOOOHOOHOOHOOO!...Umph".

After a long and thrilling flight by crow, Garret and Oscar were unceremoniously dropped by the firelink bonfire. The only other person there, a knight with an apathetic face, merely raised an eyebrow at the shivering knight on the ground and an oddly joyful sorcerer.

"Oh man! That was more fun than I thought. Can't wait to do that again. What about you Oscar. Um, Oscar, you doing okay buddy?"

Oscar merely leapt up towards the nearest pot, lifted his facemask, and released the contents of his stomach.

"Oh my" the knight remarked, "I do believe I have never seen someone react so violently to the crow ride before. It almost puts a smile on my face".

Garret meanwhile was patting Oscar on the back "There there, its okay, let it all out".

"Uggh…huff…huff…were you-urk-were you serious about returning to the asylum Garret?"

"Yes".

"Then you will be on your own. I will keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. Humans were never meant to fly in the air. I will never EVER do that again".

Garret had a quick flash as to how one enters Anor Londo for the first time. "Whatever you say buddy. Now come on, we got things to do". Garret then moved over to the knight sitting on some rubble "And how are you doing this fine day?" he asked.

"Well for one" the knight replied, "I have not smiled like that since that pyromancer from the swamp fell off a ledge rushing off to the burg".

"Really? He did that?"

"Oh yes. Didn't even stop to say hello. Just rushed off going on about meeting his godmother of something. Anyway, I assume you want information. Well, there are actually-"

"Two bells of awakening yeah yeah".

"Oh, well…then we are done here".

"Hold on a minute" Oscar spoke up "There are two bells? I was told that there was only one".

The knight replied, "Well then, you were obviously misinformed. There is one up above, in the Undead Parish, and one down below, in Blighttown".

"But the prophecy states-"

"Look at it this way" Garret interrupted, "The…gods…have two bells set up as a means of testing the chosen undead's resolve. After all, one bell is easy, but going to ring second bell is a challenge. Especially considering its in Blighttown".

"I suppose…"

"Great, now lets rest up at the bonfire and then go down the elevator".

"Oh, so we are going to ring the Blighttown bell first".

"Good god no. But I need to get a couple of things first. It might take me a bit. You should come down though, if only to repair your stuff at the smith".

"There is a blacksmith down there?" Oscar asked incredulously while following Garret down the stairs".

"Yeah, a guy by the name of Rickert, a sorcerer like me, who can also smith. He locked himself up and smiths to slow his descent to madness".

"How sad, to have to lock yourself up or risk being a danger to those around you".

"Yeah… Oh well, its his choice in the end".

"I suppose…" Oscar then chose to stay silent, giving Garret time to figure out how leveling was supposed to work.

" _Okay. How to do this? A screen obviously isn't going to pop up with all my stats. Although I am going to need to be stronger and more dexterous if I want that Estoc down in New Londo"._

Suddenly, Garret felt a rush of energy leave and then almost immediately enter his body, as if had just run 12 miles and taken a hot both at the same time.

" _Whoa…That was surreal…So I guess I just think it, and assuming I have enough souls, I will level accordingly. Simple, but I won't know exact numbers...Oh well"._

"Garret, are you rested?" He heard Oscar call out.

"Yup. Just allocated all the souls I collected in the asylum".

"Ah yes…If there is one nice thing about the curse, it is that it is much easier to get stronger than one normally would".

"Thank God too. We don't have the time to properly build muscles in order wield bigger and better weapons; now, onward to the ruins of New Londo!" Garret exclaimed, while moving towards the stairs.

When they were about to reach the second set of stairs to reach the elevator, Oscar looked to his left and noticed a blonde woman in ratty clothes huddled behind some iron bars. "Garret, who is this?" He asked, while moving closer to the bars.

Garret looked over and saw that Oscar was right in front of Anastacia's cell. "Ah her. Well she is the firekeeper of Firelink Shrine. It is her job to keep the flame upstairs lit," He answered. "Poor thing had her tongue ripped out and legs mutilated so she couldn't escape or speak ill of the gods _-not to mention that whole eye thing they got going on_. Her name, since she cannot give it herself, is-"

"Anastacia? Oscar breathed out.

"I'm sorry what?" Garret asked, eyes (or rather eyeholes, since he had yet to revert to human) widening, "How do you know her name?"

Oscar was quiet for some time"…I had a twin sister back in Astora. She was chosen by the church to be a firekeeper. We never even got to celebrate our tenth birthday".

"And…what makes you so sure this one is her?"

"I don't know" Oscar turned and replied, taking off his gauntlets and helmet to reveal light blonde hair and blue-grey eyes, "Just a feeling I have…" He turned back to the cell. "Ana, if it is you, please look up. I want to look at your face again, after all these years".

Anastacia flinched, before slowly craning her head up to meet Oscar, blue-grey orbs to grey cloth. Oscar bit back a gasp “Y-you’re eyes” Anastacia looked down, perhaps in shame, perhaps in resignation. Oscar swallowed, “…It is no matter, I do not need to see your eyes to know you are my sister,” still, she would not respond. Oscar started to tear up, and clenched the iron bars between them, “…Please Ana”. He started to shudder, his armor clanking in tune with his body. He stopped however, when he felt a small, dirty, soft hand cover his own. Sniffling, he looked up at Anastacia, who had a small smile on her face. He smiled in turn, “Ana, my dear sister”. He brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, and the two leaned forward in a loving embrace, ignoring the bars that stood between them.

Garret just gazed on dumbly.  _"Oh my God. This is…but how. There was no hint towards any of this in the game. This is just insane, not to mention horribly depressing. Just…God..."_

"Umm, Oscar. I'm just…I'm just going to go down by myself. I-I'll see you later". Oscar didn't give any indication that he heard, but Garret ran to the elevator nonetheless. After reaching the bottom, he bolted out and huddled in a corner on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"This…this is all real…these are all real people. Ho-ho-how can I do this? I have to go through all these trials and meet all these people, knowing exactly what happens to them...I can always just go it alone. Yeah, just don't talk to anyone. Don't mess with them and nothing happens. Easy".

…

"But that was in game. That was just codes and voice-actors. People don't follow a script… They live and breathe and do what they want. If I don't talk to Solaire he will just go on his own and still get trapped in Izalith. Siegmeyer will probably just die sooner. Laurentius goes hollow down in Blighttown. Rhea either dies in the parish or goes hollow at the archives. These guys aren't just going to be dictated by ones and zeroes. They are going to make choices, and those choices will lead to their ultimate doom. And, I can't stop it..." Garret then put his head between his knees, feeling a sort of numbness enter his very being.  _"…It this what it feels to go hollow? Kinda peaceful. I wonder if everyone feels this way when they turn. Not a bad way to go actually. Its like I'm falling asleep…"_

As he was slowly falling into the gentle embrace of the Abyss, Garret's last thoughts were, oddly enough, about the Rocky franchise. Rocky Balboa (the sixth movie, not the character), or rather, the speech Rocky gives his son about winning. About taking the hits life gives you, and moving forward.

"…No. No way in hell am I going to let things just play out. In this world I have omniscience comparable to a god. I can change things. I can save Siegmeyer from hollowing by-by making sure he finishes bosses. I can be Solaire's "sunbro", keeping his spirits up. I can expose Petrus for the scum he is. Yeah, I can do this. I mean, I already wanted have Solaire, Rhea, and Siegmeyer in an impromptu party with Oscar and me, now the stakes are just a bit higher. Yeah…YEAH! I CAN DO THIS! YOU HERE ME WORLD! I'M GONNA DO IT. I'M GONNA CHANGE THINGS, GIVE THIS LAND  **AND**  ITS PEOPLE A HAPPY ENDING!" He shouted to the ceiling.

* **HUFF* *HUFF***

"But first, I need to scrounge for items".

**A/N: In light of certain…revelations that accompany Dark Souls 3, I’m changing certain parts of my story to fit the in-game lore.**


	3. Chapter 3

  * Dying Tickles Chapter 3:



Gear Up

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_
  * **“Demon/deity speech”**



**Line Break**

After having a mental breakdown, and subsequently recovering, Garret heard the elevator in motion. He moved to the entrance to see Oscar, with his helmet back on, walk out. “…Ah…There you are Garret”.

 

“Hey…Oscar…You doing okay?” Garret asked awkwardly.

 

“As well as one can after seeing their sister again after decades…Is…Is what you said true, that Ana had her tongue cut off cut off and was purposely mutilated?” Oscar asked.

 

“…I highly doubt she did it to herself…”

 

“…I see…” Oscar replied. He then clenched his fist, before slowly releasing it “…You said there was a smith down here who could repair armor?”

 

“Yeah, just down here” Garret replied, leading the way down. When they reached the bottom Garret spoke up again. “FYI, there are a few hollows down here, but they are the docile kind, so far gone they barely do anything. Easy kills if it pleases”.

 

“…I don’t know…” Oscar slowly spoke “…It goes against what I stand for as a knight”.

 

“Not to be rude, but in this place, your “codes of honor” can take a hike”. They had reached to set of stairs leading down to Rickert. “This is an eat or be eaten world buddy, and they aren’t eating”. Oscar just stayed silent. They approached Rickert’s cell.

 

“Hmm” he grunted, “This is an unusual sight, not one, but two men roaming about. A knight and a sorcerer wandering the ruins of a city, sound like one heck of a story”.

 

“Hello Rickert” Garret said.

 

“Hold on, how do you-”

 

Garret cut him off “I have the gift of foresight. One of the things I foresaw is you”.

 

“Huh, a sorcerer gifted with visions of the future. The gods must like you”.

 

“Oh trust me, when the remaining gods find out who I am, they will most certainly not like me, especially a certain cross-dressing sis-con with daddy issues”. He muttered that last part out so the others wouldn’t hear him. Rickert however, had heard that last part.

 

“Hold on, which god is a cr-“

 

“If it is all the same with you” Oscar interrupted “I would like to repair my armor and weapons”.

 

“Oh, well give him here, I’ll have them fixed up in a jiffy” Rickert replied. Oscar and Garret both started stripping off their armor.

 

“Excellent, I am sure if Garret and I pool our souls we can pay you in fu-“

 

“Oh no, I’ll do this for free” Rickert spoke up.

 

Oscar looked on with a questioning gaze “Why would you repair our supplies for free”.

 

“Thank your buddy over there” Rickert replied, already starting to fix Oscar’s chest piece.

 

Now it was Garret’s turn to look confused “What did I do?”

 

“That little speech you gave earlier” Rickert told them “About not giving up and changing things, it was inspiring, really got my blood pumping again”.

 

“Speech?” Oscar questioned.

 

“Oh” Garret replied, a sheepish smile on his face, “I was just in the middle of a nervous breakdown, it happens”. He then turned back to Rickert, “Well then, if you have any heavy soul arrow scrolls I can-”

 

“That’ll be 2,000 souls” Rickert shot of, not taking his eyes off the items he was repairing.

 

“What?”

 

“Souls, it is what passes for currency in this godforsaken land”.

 

“I know what they are used for, but, 2,000? What happened to the whole ‘blood pumping thing’ my speech gave you?”

 

“That’s for the armor, this is separate”.

 

“Bu-“

 

“You want me to double the amount?” Rickert asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Oscar then told Garret “I’ll give you some of my souls to spend Garret, after all, the entire repair is being done for free”.

 

“…Alright” Garret relented, and paid the price, getting a heavy soul arrow scroll in return.

 

Soon enough, Rickert had fully repaired the duo’s weapons and armor and had returned them. “Do come visit again” he called out as they left.

 

Garret and Oscar were moving towards the path the lead to the flooded city of New Londo. Garret the made a sharp left turn form the entrance arch and stopped before a vase with a body in it. Before Oscar could ask him what he was doing, Garret hurled himself into the vase, breaking it apart and having the body slump to the ground. “Garret!” he yelled out, “What do you thi-”.

 

“Ta-Da” Garret suddenly yelled out, holding an Estoc in his right hand.

 

Oscar just stared before turning away “…Is this going to be a regular thing with you. Doing something no sane man would even consider, all to get some prize in return?”

 

Garret just tilted his head at the question “Is that going to be a problem?”

 

“…I guess not…So long as we get something beneficial in return”.

 

“I am so glad you feel that way, of course, there are some better weapons to be found back upstairs, but I’m a bit of a completionist” Garret then proceeded to strip off his clothing until he was in nothing but a loincloth “You can head up to Firelink now, I’ll be back up one way or another”.

 

Oscar merely stared at him for a few seconds before heading for the elevator, muttering about insane seers.

 

 _“Alright”_ Garret thought to himself, _“I have to get the Firekeeper soul above all else, any thing else…I’ll play by ear”_. With a “plan” in mind, he headed towards the ruins, grabbing a pair of transient curses on the way.

 

As he made it too the water, he spotted the first couple of ghosts making their way towards him. _“Wait for it, wait for it”_ he chanted in his head. One ghost then made to cleave him in two _“NOW!”_ he thought, and deftly rolled out of the way, just missing the ghost’s slash. He continued to “duck and weave” past all the ghosts until he made it to the corpse with the Firekeeper soul in it. He grabbed the soul and placed it in his sack, _“Now to esca-”_ his thought was interrupted by the gang of ghosts all blocking his way out. He then saw the lead ghost extend its blades in order to slice him to bits. “…Well…shit” were his last words, before his mind went dark.

 

**A/N: Here it is, my third chapter.**

**In response to a Mr. (or Ms.) CadenGallic, the tone will be mostly comedic, but will have its serious moments. After all, Dark Souls does get pretty dark, what with all the NPC’s having horrible fates befall them (Siegmeyer and Solaire some to mind). As it stands, Garret will try to keep things as lighthearted as possible, but there will be some depressing moments. I can only try to balance those out.**

**Later.**

 


	4. Chapter 4

  * Dying Tickles Chapter 4:
  * Enema’s and aiming.
  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_
  * **“Demon/deity speech”**



 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“What in the, Garret, are you-” Oscar was enjoying the warmth of the bonfire when all of the sudden a (still naked) Garret materialized screaming his head off.

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Garret calm-“

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH- I’m good”. Garret abruptly stopped screaming and turned to Oscar.

 

“…Are you sure?” Oscar skeptically asked.

 

“Oh yeah totally-AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!- Okay, now I’m good”.

 

Oscar just stared at Garret long and hard before finally saying “I’ll take your word for it. Now, are we all ready to go, or do you enjoy the feeling of stone on your buttocks?”

 

“Okay, first of all, yes, the stone floor is oddly soothing, you should try it sometime”. Oscar just gave a blank stare in return “And second, no, there are still a couple things I need to get. On a related note, what’s you’re opinion on spears?”

 

Oscar paused to actually think on this since, as previous experience has shown, there are methods to Garret’s madness. “If I have one available, I would use it, but I still prefer my sword in most situations”.

 

“Okay, be right back. Oh wait, here” Garret rummaged through his sack and pulled out a small crystal that seemed to glow with energy. Oscar immediately closed in on Garret, having an inkling as to what was in his hand.

 

“Is that a…firekeeper’s  soul?”

 

“Yup. Poor girl was just lying there in the ruins. We could destroy this so we could gain whatever humanity is stuck inside” Oscar blanched at the thought of destroying the soul of someone who had similar circumstances to his sister, “but that’s a horrible idea. So here” he hands it to Oscar “give it to your sister, she’ll know what to do with it. See ya” and Garret sprinted north towards the cemetery.

 

Oscar then made his way to his sister’s…living area… “Hello again Ana” said girl gave a small smile in return, “Garret, the crazy man I told you about, said you would know what to do if I gave you this”. He showed the soul to Ana. She frowned and tenderly reached for the object. When she had it in both hands her eyes glistened with unshed tears, before bringing the soul to her chest. It broke in a myriad of white light. It hovered above her for a bit, before rushing for Oscar’s satchel. He opened it up to see what it did, and saw that the Estus flask, which when full had a dull orange glow, seemed brighter. It took a few seconds for it to click in his mind, “You strengthened the flask,” he said in awe. Ana smiled and nodded her head. “Thank you Ana, this will make our journey easier,” He bent down to give her a hug, albeit an awkward one with bars in their way “I shall see you soon”. He ruffled her head, causing her to swat away his hand in a playful manner, before going back to the bonfire.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret was running up the stairs leading to the elevators when he slid to a stop _“Hold on, Petrus is up ahead”_ he then put his hand under his chin in thought _“How should I play this? On the one hand, I can join the Way of the White covenant, on the other hand, I don’t think multiplayer is an actual thing. Plus he’s a dick. But if I antagonize him now it will be that much harder to get Rhea on my side…I’ll leave him alone for now”_.

 

His machinations of the day done, he decided it would be best to just sprint past Petrus all together. He ran up towards the broken elevator and jumped down to grab the gear stashed down there. After (most likely) robbing Petrus blind. He moved towards the cliff and steeled his nerves. _“Okay buddy, you can do this. Just run and grab, you’ve done this dozens of times before. Besides, its not like death holds a real penalty here; now Drangleic’s curse, that I would have to be careful with, but here, easy”._

 

Having sufficiently calmed himself, he leapt off the cliff past the first two skeletons. He ran down the broken steps and grabbed the shield first. _“One down, several to-Holy crap!”_ At that moment, a skeleton jumped to slash him, but missed and fell of the cliff. _“…Just keep running, just keep running”_ he started to chant in his head. He managed to grab the binoculars, Zweihander, and Winged Spear easily, but things took a turn for the worse when he went for the last object. Right as he grabbed the last large soul of lost undead, one of the massive skeletons swung its sword at Garrets feet. He missed his body, but the force of the blow striking the ground knocked the man off balance. He stumbled towards a ledge before landing on his hands and knees right and the edge of the cliff. He breathed a sigh of relief before hearing the rattle of bones behind him. He ducked his head under his legs to see a veritable army of skeletons behind him. “Hehe…don’t suppose you’d let me go?” One of the skeletons held its sword in high in the air “Thought not…well, later!” As he finished his sentence he through himself off the cliff the skeleton hitting nothing but dirt when it swung.

 

 _“At least now I won’t die by sword enema. Now all I have to do is wait for the respawn”_. After several seconds of falling, he began to realize his mistake _“Oh shit. It was a game mechanic that made it so you died only a few feet off of a cliff. I’m going to fall hundreds of feet before kersplatting on the ground”_ he then spotted a tree branch directly below him, “…Or I could get stabbed in the gut by a tree…still better than an enema”. When he made contact with the tree, it instantly pierced his stomach, but did not kill him, much to his chagrin. “OH GOD! WORSE THAN AN ENEMA, MUCH WORSE THAT AN ENEMA!” When he felt his vision slip he almost cried out in joy.

 

**Line Break**

Garret found himself face down on the ground, Oscar standing over him “Are you alright Garret. I found the spear and other items in my satchel, but I also heard you yelling in pain. What in Gwyn’s name is an Emena?”

 

“An ENEMA Oscar is something you should strive to avoid at all costs”. Garret then began to take out all the gear he would wear. “Now come on,” he said, securing the Caduceus shield on his back. “We need to head out” he chose to ignore the silent “finally” Oscar muttered under his breath.

 

“Okay listen up” Garret stopped Oscar before that finished the trip up to the sewer drain. “There are a number of hollows here. Most are pretty easy, but there are three that you should watch for. One is at the top of the first set of stairs. He chucks firebombs at you with scary accuracy. Above him is another hollow that chucks firebombs, but he won’t do anything until you get up the first set of stairs. The last one is a hollow still decked out in his old armor. He won’t bother us unless we get too close, so we can use that to our advantage by attacking him from a distance. You attack the guys on the ground; I’ll work my way up and kill the bombers. Should be easy with my spells”. Oscar was silently impressed by the amount of planning Garret put into this. “Okay” Garret took a deep breath; “Let’s go”.

 

Oscar and Garret both sprinted towards their destinations. Oscar moved to slash at the hollow in front of him, but had to back away as he saw a firebomb sail towards him. Garret had made short work of the hollow on the staircase. He brought out his binoculars so as to carefully line –up his shot, lamenting the fact that z-targeting doesn’t exist.

 

Oscar meanwhile, had killed the first hollow, but was rolling left and right to avoid getting burned. He, unfortunately, got the attention of the hollowed knight, so he now had to contend with both a scary accurate firebomber, and a hollow that seemed to retain some of its skill in its madness. After bashing the hollow away he turned his to look at Garret, wondering what was taking so long, and saw him aiming with binoculars. “Of for…GARRET!”

 

“Yeah Oscar?”

 

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF GWYNEVERE ARE YOU DOING?!” he asked hotly.

 

“Aiming” Garret simply stated, still peering in the binoculars.

“…ARE YOU SERIOUS!?”

 

“Hey, I have a limited number of shots, I would prefer not to waste them”.

 

A firebomb landed on Oscar’s shield. He could feel the heat through his glove. “GARRET!”

 

“Almost…there!” He fired a bolt of blue energy, and hit the wall above the hollows head. “Damn, just missed”.

 

“JUST RUN UP AND STAB THE THING!”

 

“Hold on, I know I can get this ri-”

 

Oscar sidestepped to avoid a slash, but got set on fire in return. “GARRET!”

 

“All right, fine. Be more moody” Garret grumbled, but did run up to the hollow, switching out his staff for the shield. He rolled under a firebomb and stabbed it in the abdomen, causing it to stagger and fall to its death. The hollow with an axe did a jumping strike, but Garret blocked it in time and quickly countered with three stabs in succession, causing it to fall over, dead. He ran up the last hollow, who decided to just run at him with his sword handle, Garret easily parried the blow and stabbed the thing in the gut before slashing its head off. Pleased with his victory and the influx of souls he received, he turned to see how Oscar was faring, and saw that he was heading up to meet him, the hollow soldier dead on the ground.

 

When Oscar reached Garret, he had to pause and take several deep, long breaths. “…Garret” he began “May I see those binoculars?” The sentence may have been a question, but the way Oscar said invited death in opposed. Garret quickly shoved the binoculars in Oscar’s hands.

 

Oscar looked at them appreciatively: turning then over, peering in the distance. With a nod he ended his examination, and chucked it to the ravine.

 

Garret stood agape, staring at the spot where he lost sight of his binoculars. He rounded on Oscar “Do you know what I had to go through to get those?” he asked, irritated.

 

“Were you set on fire?” Oscar calmly, softly, retorted.

 

Garret faltered, “Well, no but-” he would have finished but Oscar grabbed him by the collar and stared him straight where his eyes would be.

“Then shut up”. 


	5. Chapter 5

  * Dying Tickles Chapter 5:
  * Nightmare Fuel
  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_
  * **“Demon/deity speech”**



**Line Break**

 

Oscar, still peeved about the whole binocular incident, strode past Garret to the sewer entrance. He had just entered when he froze in place, gaping at something he had never seen before in his life.

 

Garret cautiously followed behind, not wanting to anger the knight any further, and saw that his companion was frozen in place, head turned to the left. Garret tapped the knight’s shoulder and asked “Dude, what’s up?”

 

“G-g-giant…” Oscar stammered out.

 

“Giant…what?” Garret chuckled a bit before asking, “Dad? C’mon, guy doesn’t actually exist…Right?”

 

“G-g-giant…Rat” Oscar finally said, pointing in horror at a rat the size of a dog with feral eyes, patches of red skin, and, oddly enough, a Mohawk.

 

Garret managed to sidle past Oscar and got a look at the “giant rat”. He just stifled a chuckle before running up and stabbing the thing in its face in a trio of blows, killing it. Garret turned around and grinned ad the still frozen knight. “Awww…is the big, stwong knight afwaid of a wittle wat?” he teased.

 

Oscar let out a shaky breath, “That…thing, was not little. It was a horrifying creature from one’s nightmares”.

 

Garret just looked at Oscar before saying “The demon at the asylum was scarier than this thing”.

 

“True. But that was a demon, as in it was born that way. Rats are at most, the size of boot, not that hulking mass of flesh and fur”.

 

Garret snorted before moving to pick up the undead soul at the end of the tunnel. “Whatever you say”. As he moved past the rat he noticed a familiar pale glow. To Oscar’s horror, he shoved his arm in the rat corpse. A second later he pulled out what looked like a shiny mass of black mist.

 

Oscar shook himself out of reverie in order to get a closer look at the object in Garret’s hand, “Is that…a humanity sprite?”

 

“Yup”.

 

“…Why was it in a rat’s body?”

 

“There are a couple of answer’s to that question”. Garret then put the sprite in his bag and moved towards the other end of the tunnel. Oscar took one last look at the rat, shivered, and followed closely behind.

 

When they reached the end of the tunnel (or rather, the iron door barring the way) Garret turned to address Oscar. “Okay, planning time” Garret took on a serious tone of voice. “There are actually quite a few enemies up ahead. The first two are fairly simple, standard mindless hollows, one has an axe though, and so he should be approached carefully. Then there are two more in the next open area. One is a firebomber” Oscar raised his hand, but Garret cut him off “don’t worry, my aiming is better on flat planes, and I won’t miss this time” The hand was still raised, Garret rolled his eyes (or tried to anyway, since he had no eyes to roll) “I’m going first.” Oscar slowly lowered his hand. “After that I’m going to hop down to a lower platform and loot that area dry. Wait for me in the building to the right”.

 

“Can I not move forward on my own?”

 

“…Well, you certainly can, but I would honestly wait until I return…all right, let’s go” Garret turned and led the way out.

 

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Garret immediately ran toward the closet hollow, sword poised to strike. Oscar rushed ahead to block an axe blow made by the second hollow. Garret stabbed forward, but missed his mark, and was rewarded with a slash on the arm. He grunted in pain before slashing his blade and hitting the hollow in return. He back stepped and stabbed forward again, this time blocked by a shield. He stabbed again, and was once again blocked. He repeated the process once more and was rewarded with the hollow losing its balance, arms flailing to the side. He stabbed it in the throat before slashing again in the chest. It fell of the building, landing with a satisfying thud.

 

Oscar managed the push the axe wielding hollow back, and was watching it carefully. His enemy them leapt in the air, meaning to cleave the man in two. Oscar stood his ground. When the axe was only a foot away from him, he swung his shield outwards, brushing off the attack, causing the axe to smash into the ground, its wielder going with it. Oscar moved close to the hollow before ramming his sword straight through its chest. With a grunt he pulled it out, letting the hollow fall to the ground, dead once more.

 

Garret looked over at Oscar, who nodded to him, pointing his shield arm ahead. Garret nodded in turn and moved on, trading his shield out for his staff. He saw the firebomber, and rolled to the side to avoid getting set ablaze. He quickly righted himself, and, staff raised high, released a bolt of blue energy at the hollow. His aim was true, and the creature staggered, dropping a firebomb it held in its hand. It wailed in agony as it burned, before falling to the ground, dead. Turing his head, he saw Oscar stab at his enemy, knocking it down to the ground, where it stayed.

 

“All right” Garret began. I’m going to run down and grab everything” He started to move away, but turned back once more, “Again, stay here”. He then jumped down, disappearing from Oscar’s view. Said knight waited for about a minute. He heard sounds of Garret killing hollows, and was all around bored waiting for the man. _“…Surely, whatever he is worried about cannot be that horrible. After all, what can be terrifying compared to a twenty-foot demon wielding a hammer…and a dog sized rat”_. His mind made up, Oscar decided to ahead without Garret, and let him catch up.

 

After reaching the top of the stairs, he heard what sounded like massive wings beating in the air. He inclined his head and fell back in horror as large, scaly beast with wings for forearms landed with a thud on the rampart. It snaked its head around a bit sniffing the air, before turning its gaze toward Oscar. It glared down at him, before huffing a small burst of smoke and flying off towards the castle like structure in the distance. Oscar just shakily picked himself up and proceeded down the stairs. He sat down at the bottom step, took off his helmet, held his head in his hands, and started hyperventilating.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret had just made it back to where he left Oscar, and noticed he wasn’t in the area. Garret just shook his head and entered the building to the right. He found the knight at the bottom of the stairs, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Garret then moved to sit down next to the man. “So, take it you saw big, red, and ugly?”

 

Oscar shakily shook his head, “Th-th-there are still dragon’s in Lordran?”

 

“Oh that wasn’t a dragon” Garret calmy interjected.

 

Oscar’s eyes widened, he swiveled his head towards Garret so fast one could almost hear the whiplash “What?”

 

“That was a drake. A drake is generally smaller” Oscar let out a soft whimper at that “and their wings serve as forearms. A DRAGON has wings that grow from its back, and their breath attacks range from black flames to poison. Thankfully both types are weak to electric attacks”.

 

“…At least we won’t have to face any dragons,” Oscar said, feeling a little less doomed.

 

“Oh no we will kill a few actual dragons. Granted, only one can be counted as a ‘true dragon’ by this world’s definition, and others are in some weird zombie limbo. But don’t worry; we’ll be tons stronger when we reach those guys. Ooh, we will also have to make sure to cut off their tails, they make great weapons” Oscar just gaped at the sorcerer, who smiled in response. Garret then got up and brushed off some dust from his robe. “C’mon, we got things to do” and with that, Garret walked up the stairs to the rampart.

 

Oscar sat frozen for a few more seconds, before placing his helmet back on his head and following, all the while muttering, “cutting the tail off of a gargantuan, fire-breathing beast, to make a weapon? It might have been better if I left him in the asylum”.


	6. Chapter 6

  * Dying Tickles Chapter 6:
  * Talk is cheap, arrows aren’t
  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_
  * **“Demon/deity speech”**



**Line Break**

 

Oscar was still a little shaky from his close encounter with the drake. He was beginning to think that; maybe he couldn’t finish this quest. If what Garret said was even moderately true then they would face creatures much worse than the drake before they were even halfway done.

 

Speaking of the eccentric prophet, Oscar couldn’t help but stare at the man as he marched up the steps to the rampart. Oscar didn’t know what to think about this man. On the one hand, Garret convinced him to pick himself up and leave the Asylum, thereby meeting his sister after years of separation. On the other hand, his sister was physically (and almost definitely mentally) mutilated, which soured their meeting. On top of the fact that now there are two bells of awakening to ring.

 

 _“Perhaps it would have been better if I hollowed in the Asylum”_ he thought, then shook his head in disgust _“Stop that! Self-pity will get you nowhere. You still have a mission to complete. Besides, now that you found Ana, you have all the more reason to see this through to the end.”_

 

“Hey, Oscar! You listening?”

 

“What?” Oscar broke out his introspection to see that Garret was standing in front of the final steps leading to the rooftops. “Sorry I was-”

 

“Doing some soul searching or having a philosophical soliloquy, yeah. Don’t worry; I’m sure everyone and their mother probably had to take a few moments to think about how anyone could go through this hell. Gets even worse when you know how everything is supposed to play out, and then you have to guess, plan, and pray that you don’t screw things up too badly when you decide to go off-script”.  Garret heaved a large sigh before putting a large grin on his face “You know what’ll get us out of this funk? Killing some mindless hollows. C’mere, I got a plan”.

 

Garret’s “plan” was merely more of an outline of who was where. It was agreed that Garret would handle the hollows on the first roof, and Oscar would run up and take care of the crossbowman.

 

Oscar sprinted forward, ignoring the two hollows that moved towards him. Garret ran up and backstabbed the axe-wielding hollow, then back-stepped to avoid a slash from the second hollow.

 

Oscar ran up and slashed at the hollow on the stairs, knocking it off the roof. He then rounded the top of the steps to meet the crossbowman, who had opted to bring out his sword. The hollow rushed Oscar, who rolled to the side to avoid the blow. He then sprung up with a slash, which hit its mark. The hollow retaliated with a stab, which caught Oscar in the ribs, he gasped at the sensation before he back peddled. The hollow made to stab again, but Oscar parried the blow with his shield, following up by shoving his sword through the hollow’s back. It let out a low gurgle before falling limp. Oscar pulled his sword out, letting the hollow fall to the ground. He noticed that the thing’s crossbow was undamaged, but didn’t move to pick it up, as he had no skill with a crossbow.

 

He then heard Garret cursing as he came up the steps. Said man had a deep gash on the side of his head which, if he were still human, would be bleeding profusely. “What happened to you?”

 

“Bastard got a lucky strike in with his axe”.

 

“Are you not going to drink from the flask?”

“No need. There is a bonfire right in that building… Is that a crossbow?” Garret motioned to the aforementioned object on the ground.

 

“Oh yes, but I have no skill in-”

 

“Bag it”.

 

Oscar blinked “Pardon. Why? It is of no use to us and will just take up space”.

 

Garret deadpanned before reaching into his bag and pulling a wooden shield out. “You were saying? Besides, we’ll get a place to store any excess crap soon. Now c’mon, this wound is getting itchy and I don’t want to accidentally pick my brain”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“Garret stop pouting” Oscar sighed exasperatedly.

 

“No. Those things have it out for me”.

 

“While it is strange that you were unable to light the bonfire-”

 

“Damn thing faked me out with it sparking up before dying” the man grumbled.

 

“…Seriously, stop pouting, it looks really weird. Actually, just turn human. We are at a bonfire after all, and you did pick up that humanity sprite”.

 

“That’s actually a good idea. I am really tired of feeling my ribs whenever I scratch my chest”.

 

Garret then stood up and crushed his humanity sprite, absorbing the power inside. To say it was intoxicating would be an understatement. Garret felt power itself seep into his very soul. _“More…”_ a small part of him whispered, and, honestly, he felt like obliging it. _“Whoa there”_ the rest of him replied _“that line of thought is how the Four Kings and all those Darkwraiths ended up getting drowned in New Londo”_. He then moved back to the bonfire and kneeled, focusing on the power that now dwelled in him. A flash of light occurred and he stood once more, glad to see his usual light tan instead of the ugly orange-brown he got used to seeing. He then spent a few moments patting down his body, relishing in the fact that he had proper muscles again.

 

Oscar was looking over Garret as well. His human form was a little perplexing, since he was a sorcerer (a person who would inherently spend most of their time indoors) and had a healthy tan. The eyes, he noted, were blue- a rich, light blue -which was strange since his hair was pure black. Not unheard of, but still a little odd. Another thing he noted was that Garret looked rather young. _“He can’t be a day over twenty-five”._

 

“Man” Garret said aloud, “It feels good to be human again”.

 

Oscar smiled and chuckled a bit, “Yes, it is a pleasant thing… Garret, how old are you?”

 

“Hmm, oh, uh, just turned 19 a few months ago”.

 

Oscar’s eyebrow’s shot up at this “…You have not even been alive twenty years and you have to bear the hell of the curse”.

 

Garret tilted his head at this before shrugging, “Eh, shit happens. Don’t really have a choice but to deal with it and make the best of it. Now c’mon, we still have things to get done”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“So there actually is someone living here?”

 

“Yeah, and he sells stuff too”, Garret and Oscar were on their way down towards the person that was crazy enough to still live in the burg. “Just, don’t say anything weird about Yulia”.

 

“Who is ‘Yulia’?”

 

“His uchigatana”

 

“Ah…I have no clue what that is”.

 

“It’s a large single-edged blade from the East. He treats it like his…lover? I don’t know, I don’t question it”.

 

Oscar was still a little perplexed, but considering the fact that there was a man who chose to live in the Berg after everything went to hell, he could cut the man a little slack.

 

Upon reaching the archway leading to the man, they were greeted…cordially. “Oh, what’s this Yulia? Looks like a couple of unlucky folk traversing the berg. Well, come on then you two, we don’t bite” The man-who was definitely more hollow than could be considered healthy (relatively speaking)- gave a crooked grin, most of his teeth either out of place or missing.

 

Oscar paused a bit to let the man’s appearance sink in, but Garret sauntered right on, “Hello there Mr. Merchant. I was wondering if I could have a bow, a few dozen arrows, and a bottomless box?”

 

“Ooh, that’s quite a lot of requests my good man. Question is, can you deliver?”

 

“Good question… How would I prove that?” Garret asked sheepishly.

 

The merchant rolled his eye(sockets) and gave a sigh, “Just collect all the souls you have in your hands and we’ll go from there”.

 

Garret did just that, a pale white flame appearing in his cupped palms. The merchant gave it a once over “Hmm…I can get you the bow and box, but not anymore than 2 dozen normal arrows”.

 

Garret looked down in thought before dissipating the flame, smacking a fist in the other palm “Wait, I have soul pieces”.

 

Garret then pulled out a couple of wisp-like flames and crushed them in his hands, a sound like glass breaking permeating the air. He then gathered his souls again. “Hmm” the man said again, before smiling “Now that’s a pretty batch of souls”. He then took out an ordinary looking box, a short bow, and a few quivers full of arrows. “Pleasure doing business with you” he said, handing Garret and Oscar the items. Petting ‘Yulia’ he said, “We got us a good deal today, didn’t we Yulia?”

 

Garret had put all the items but the box, which he was trying to open, in his bag. After a few minuets of minimal success, he gave up. “Garret” Oscar spoke up, “What is that?”

 

“Oh, it’s a bottomless box. You can fit any amount of items in this baby. It can only be opened in bonfires, but I was hoping that was just a game mechanic” he mumbled that last part to himself. “Anyway, head back to the bonfire and put any items you think we won’t use in it, I’m going to do some last minuet scrounging”.

 

 **A/N: And there we go. I was considering going through and ending with the Taurus battle this chapter, but considering that I haven’t updated this story in over a month I figured I’d send this out. Later.**  


	7. Chapter 7

  * Chapter 7:
  * Getting savvy.
  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_
  * **“Demon/deity speech”**



**Line Break**

 

“Garret I don’t think this is a good idea.”

 

“Oh don’t say that.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“This’ll be a piece of cake Oscar.”

 

The knight gave a slight huff, “This is not one of those mindless drones we have fought up till now.” His voice turned into a harsh whisper, “That is one of Lord Gwyn’s knights!”

 

The aforementioned knight was facing away from them, some 30 feet away. It’s silver armor burned black, looking more menacing than it could have been with its original silver coating. The knight did not seem to register the two men behind it though, content to just gaze forward, on a constant vigil.

 

Garret just chuckled, “Oscar, you gotta lighten up. Gwyn’s not here, and this guy’s a chump. We can take him easy.” Garret could tell that the man was not won over, yet. “Tell you what. I’ll go up and hopefully catch him by surprise, you can stay here and either shoot him full of arrows, or chuck firebombs at him. Worst case scenario I die and you head up the ladder to the rooftops, he won’t follow you up there.”

 

Oscar gave a long sigh, “If you are so willing to risk your souls, who am I to stop you.”

 

Garret patted him on his shoulder, “Good man” and slowly edged his way towards the black knight. _“All right buddy, nice and slow. You’re wearing cloth so the odds of him aggroing are significantly less. Plus, you’ve got a stabbing weapon, all primed to shove this guy through his…ass.”_ Garret had to suppress a shudder at the thought of what he was trying to accomplish.

 

He was now less than three feet away from the knight. Up close as he was, he could see that the guy had at least one, maybe two feet, on him in height. Steeling his nerves, Garret brought his blade up to his shoulder and stabbed forward, catching the knight by surprise. To his relief, Garret struck the knight just shy of his tailbone, so while still painful, it was not as awkward as it could be. Pulling his blade out, Garret spun around and sprinted towards Oscar, who was already shooting arrows at the fallen knight.

 

After Garret felt he had gained enough distance he pulled out his catalyst and fired off soul arrows at the now approaching enemy. He got a few good shots in, but the knight managed to get a lunging stab in and sent him flying.

 

Oscar had swapped out his bow for his sword and shield, now engaging the knight in martial combat. His could feel the pure strength of the knight even through his shield. The black knight broke his guard and was prepped to cut him in two. Oscar took a deep breath and prepared for the pain.

 

Suddenly, a blue light rammed into the knight’s head, exploding in a brilliant flash. The knight roared in anguish before dissolving in a bright white light. A blue wisp dropped in its place. Oscar turned towards the soul arrow’s origin to see Garret, catalyst held high, panting in exhaustion. “*pant*, See, *pant*, pi-piece of cake, whew boy.”

 

Oscar rolled his eyes and picked himself up. He reached out towards the wisp and found a pleasant surprise: a large chunk of titanite and the knight’s sword. He moved to pick up the blade, but found it too heavy to hold with just one hand. He could comfortably wield it in a two-handed grip though. He started to take a few practice swings.

 

Garret took one look at the knight and said, “Put that thing away.”

 

Oscar stopped mid-swing, “Why? It is much better than my current weapon. And though it is a little cumbersome now, I just need to increase my strength to use it in one hand.”

 

Garret gave the knight a blank stare, “Give me a roll.” Oscar leveled a stare at the sorcerer, “Just do it.”

 

Oscar sighed before doing a roll. As he was moving towards the ground, he found himself falling with more force than intended. With a grunt he landed flat on his back. He could see Garret’s lips curl into an irritating smirk, so he picked himself up and tried again, only to once again fall on his back. After a couple more tries he stood up and sighed “…I see your point…” He then shoved the blade in his satchel.

 

“Good man.” Garret patted Oscar on the shoulder, “C’mon, we should head up the tower.”

 

As they were heading up Garret shot his arm out, preventing Oscar from taking another step. Oscar gave the sorcerer a quizzical look, but kept silent, trusting that whatever information Garret had would prevent any unfortunate accidents.

 

Garret spoke, “A hollow soldier will send a flaming barrel down that flight of stairs in an attempt to kill us. I’ll go first. If I die, sorry.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I think the guys might respawn.” Oscar voiced his confusion at the word ‘respawn’, “the enemies may come back to life.” Oscar nodded in understanding.

 

Garret took a deep, calming breath before walking up the staircase. He made it about halfway before the barrel lit on fire and careened towards him. He immediately turned around but tripped down the stairs. Thankfully, he managed to roll to the side and avoid getting crushed. The soldier hollow ran down the steps to attack him, but Oscar cut it down before it could do anything. He then extended a hand towards his fallen companion. Garret took it and chugged his Estus to heal up. Wordlessly, they headed up the stairs.

 

Heading up the tower they came upon a bunch of barrels. Garret stopped in front of them. Oscar stood next to him for a few moments in silence, before breaking said silence, “Well?”

 

“Hmm?” Garret turned to him.

 

“Are you not going to rush into these barrels, thereby obtaining anything tucked away inside it?”

 

Garret gave a bark of laughter, “Glad to see you’re catching on. But yeah, there is something in here that I want, a titanite lizard to be precise.”

 

“Truly?” Oscar was shocked. Titanite itself was rare, the strange reptiles that had it growing out of their backs were even rarer. The odds of finding one, much less finding it in some random barrel, were astronomical.

 

“Yup. Only problem is I have no clue which one it’s hiding in.” Garret titled his head down in thought. He stayed that way until he shrugged and turned to Oscar, “I’m just going to smash all the barrels, get ready to kill the lizard when it hops out.” Oscar nodded in affirmation.

 

Garret plunged into the mass of barrels. As he did, a small lizard like creature with a large blue stone covering its back leapt out of the wreckage. It started scurrying towards Oscar, who swung his blade downward, his strike ringing true. The lizard flipped from the impact, but was still kicking. Oscar stabbed its exposed belly, killing it. He picked his sword up; lizard still attached, and grabbed some loose stones off the things back. He was rewarded with a twinkling titanite shard, as well as a handful normal ones.

 

Garret walked up, peering close at the now dead lizard, “Hmm…So that’s what they look like up close and personal. What we get?” Oscar showed him the haul, “Great, these’ll come in handy.” With that said, he led Oscar up the final staircase towards a fog door.

 

When they reached the door Garret headed straight through without preamble. Concerned, Oscar ran through as well. He tensed as the wind hit his body, and was prepared to do battle with whatever beast was in their way.

 

Garret, who had turned around upon realizing that his entering the fog door without some sort of explanation might cause some alarm, assuaged Oscar’s worries. “Hey, hey, hey. Calm down. Nothing’s going to hurt us, yet. There are a couple of crossbowmen up top, let’s kill them first and then I’ll tell you our strategy.”

 

After dealing with the two enemies, Garret turned towards Oscar. “All right, there is a Taurus demon at the end of the bridge. It only comes out when someone gets about half of the way there. I’m going to run out and get his attention, as I run back, pelt his ass with arrows. When I get to the ladder he should be in a prime position for you to brain him. I’ll pelt him with soul arrows, and then hopefully that will all compound to his death.” Oscar grunted in affirmation. Garret jumped off the ledge and ran towards the end of the walkway. Oscar had his bow out trained just ahead of Garret.

 

He saw the demon jump off the opposite tower as Garret doubled back. _“Looks decidedly less ugly than the demon in the asylum”_ , he thought as he sent arrow after arrow in its skull. Garret soon made it to the ladder, Oscar having put in some 20 odd arrows in the beast. As the beast paused at the stairs Oscar leapt off the ledge, plunging his sword deep into the beast’s head. It roared in pain at the feeling of blessed steel penetrating its skull. Oscar jumped off with a flourish, just as Garret sent a soul arrow to its head. (Un)fortunately, the demon decided to focus its attention on Oscar.

 

He rolled under its legs to avoid a wide swing of its crudely made ax. He stabbed at its legs and torso, but the demon did not flinch at the damage. If the glow of its eyes was any indication, it was more pissed off than hurt. That being said, it seemed to notice when Garret had switched to using his heavy soul arrows. It stalked towards the tower where Garret was shooting, but the sorcerer was one step ahead. He pulled out his blade and jumped off as Oscar had done just moments before. He caught it right in-between its eyes. It roared in agony before vanishing in a flash of light, a humanity sprite and homeward bone left in its place.

 

Oscar walked towards Garret, “Congratulations on the kill.”

 

Garret just shrugged off the compliment, “Yeah thanks.” He started to move before pausing and turning towards Oscar, “Hey, your aren’t mad that I’m stealing all these kills are you?”

 

Oscar raised an eyebrow at his question, “No, so long as I’m not dead dead I don’t care who kills what. I get the souls either way anyhow. Why?”

 

Garret just waved his hand, ”Oh nothing. Just that some people don’t take kindly to having their glory get stolen. Speaking off ‘glory’, let’s go, there is someone I have been dying to meet just ahead.”

 

**A/N: Chapter 7 complete. And just around the corner is everyone’s favorite sun-praising, jolly cooperating, (possible deity) Solaire! Hopefully he won’t fall off the deep end.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:  
#PRAIZ4DAYZ  
Dark souls is owned by From Software.  
“Talking”  
_“Thoughts”_  
**“Demon/deity speech”**

Line Break

Garret, Oscar had noticed, was acting much more excitable than usual. The man was practically bouncing with energy, all the while walking along with a massive smile on his face. Eventually, Oscar got too curious to stay silent, “Does your exuberance have anything to do with this person we are about to meet?”

Garret turned towards Oscar, the smile not leaving his face (which, being honest, was creeping him out) “YUP! The man we are about to meet is perhaps one of the greatest and most helpful people we could possibly meet. Well, there is Tarkus, and Beatrice (sans the kings), but unfortunately they are one scene wonders…maybe. I’m still working it out. But regardless, the man’s a tank”. Oscar didn’t understand what the word ‘tank’ meant, or who Tarkus and Beatrice were (but the name Tarkus did ring a bell, albeit a quiet one) but he assumed they were positive connotations/helpful people.

“And are we going to invite this man to journey with us?”

Garret nodded, “Most definately. He’ll make things a lot easier.” Oscar just turned his head forward, all the while wondering exactly who this man was that was worthy of such praise.

They soon exited the tower they were descending, and saw a sort of balcony overlooking the land, and directly across it a bridge leading to the chapel. Garret was looking towards the balcony, practically epileptic with anticipation. “Well,” Oscar began, “let’s go then.” Garret took a moment to compose himself, getting his breathing under control, trying to make the ear-splitting smile on his face less noticeable. Oscar rolled his eyes. Garret then walked down the steps, Oscar close behind.

The sun was in their eyes, so Oscar could only see an outline as they descended. Once they reached the bottom though, he got a clear look at the man Garret was referring to. He was wearing what looked to be personalized armor. Iron boots with chain mail covering his legs, leading up to a white tunic (as far as he could tell, as only the backside was visible, and even that was covered by a shield that was emblazoned with a sun that had a…face). He had green (furry?) shoulder pads, and chain mail covering his arms as well, ending at what looked like iron braces, no gloves though. His helmet was a little odd; it had a bucket shape and a red feather sticking out from the top. The man then turned towards the pair, and Oscar got a clear look at the rest of his outfit. He had an insignia on his chest just like the one on his shield, and his helmet had only two slits for him to look out of. The man’s sword looked like an ordinary one.

The man spoke, though his speech was a little muffled by the helmet. “Ah, hello there. You two don’t look hollow far from it. I am Solaire of Astora,” that caught Oscar’s attention, “adherent to the Lord of Sunlight. And you are?”

Oscar was about to respond, until he noticed that Garret had once again regained that smile on his face, and appeared to be breathing heavily, on the verge of hyperventilation. “Garret,” Oscar spoke, “If you cannot behave yourself I am afraid you will not be allowed to see this gentleman”.

Garret turned his head, eyebrows raised, “D-did you just make a joke?”

Oscar shrugged, “What of it?”

Garret hummed in thought, “Well, for the first purposefully funny thing I’ve heard you say…not bad,” Garret nodded his head, “I approve”. Oscar scoffed.

Solaire gave a hearty laugh at the pair, “It is good to find a spot of brightness in this dreary place. I myself am looking for a sun to call my own”.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, “I’m sorry, a ‘sun’?”

Solaire was about to respond, but Garret cut him off, “It is essentially an end goal, something to strive for in an otherwise dark and bleak existence”.

Solaire looked on in surprise, “…Not the way I would have explained it, but fundamentally the same I suppose. Who are you?”

Garret stepped forward, making a grand gesture with his hands, “I am Garret, a sorcerer with the gift of foresight, and this is Oscar, a knight from Astora”.

Solaire hummed in appreciation, “Ah, always good to meet fellow knight from the homeland”.

“Yes about that,” Oscar interjected, “What regiment did you fight under? For all the praise Garret has given you,” Solaire turned to look at Garret, who blushed and poked at the ground with his foot, “I don’t think I’ve heard of you”.

Solaire began taping his helmet, as if to rattle his memory, “I can’t seem to recall my commanding officer…Ah!” He snapped his fingers, “I was the one who popularized the use of soapstones”.

Oscar recoiled in shock, “YOU! Wait…you’re the man that always sent letters to the other regiments spouting on and on about, what was it? Joyful companionship and…solar worship?”

Garret then slapped Oscar on the back of his helmet, “YOU FOOL!” He yelled, “How dare you blaspheme the holiness that is ‘Jolly Cooperation’ and ‘Praising the Sun’?”

Solaire brought up his hands in a placating manner, “Calm yourself friend. The way of the sun is not for everyone, nor should it be forced upon them”.

Garret then realized exactly what he did and gave a sheepish smile and weak chuckle, “Sorry, Oscar…It’s just…when you see exactly how many horrible things happen to fundamentally good people, a simple philosophy like ‘praising the sun’ does a lot to lift your spirits”.

Oscar gave Garret and annoyed glance, but upon realizing that this is the same person who saw his supposed death, as well as having an intimate knowledge of the fate of his sister, he supposed the young man would need something to hang on too to avoid the grip of madness. “…You are forgiven…Just don’t slap my helmet again, I think I hear ringing”.

Garret smiled, “Noted”. He took a deep breath, “All right then, come on you two, let’s get going”.

Solaire raised an eyebrow (not that anyone could tell) and pointed to Oscar and himself, “‘two’? You want me to travel with you?”

“Yes”.

Solaire turned his gaze towards the sun; “I thank you for the offer friend, but I-”

“Oh no you don’t!” Garret interjected.

Solaire looked at Garret in puzzlement, “Pardon?”

“You’re coming with us mister, and that’s final!”

Oscar just sighed and gave Solaire a blank stare, “Just do as he says, it’s easier. And at the end of the day he does give sound advice”.

Garret laughed at Oscar’s statement, “I am SO glad you said that”.

Line Break

Oscar crashed down the staircase leading to a room in the middle of the bridge, a wave of searing hot fire roaring above him. Solaire was off to the side, panting a bit, some scorch marks on his armor but no major damage. Garret was leaning against a wall huffing and puffing, his hat all but disintegrated, leaving a fine layer of ash atop his head. Oscar glared at the sorcerer before stating, “I *huff* am NEVER *huff* doing that again”.

After the newly christened trio made it to the bridge, Garret informed them that the red drake had made it a sort of impromptu hunting ground. He had assured them that they would not have to fight it, but that they would need to run at top speed in order to not burn to death before reaching safety at the stairs under the bridge.

Garret just gave a toothy grin, “Yeah, yeah”. He picked himself up, “Follow me, I got something to show you”.

“It better not be another damn fire breathing lizard” Oscar grumbled.

Garret gave a sly smirk, “Oh, I think you’ll like this”. The knights followed Garret out of the room down a small set of stairs. At the end Oscar saw the bonfire in the burg, the ladder that was out of their reach just below Garret’s feet. Garret kicked the ladder down before turning to the pair, a cheeky smile on his face, “Well Oscar, have I delivered?” Garret slid down the ladder and sat down at the bonfire. Oscar simply sighed before sliding down the ladder, Solaire close behind.

After everyone was situated, and having allocated any souls on hand, Garret stood up, Solaire and Oscar stood up as well. Garret motioned for them to stop though. “Actually,” he said, “I think I have an idea. When you guys feel an influx of souls, sit back down at the bonfire, then move away again”. Solaire and Oscar shared quizzical glances, but complied.

Garret climbed up the ladder; a few seconds later they felt the souls enter their bodies. They sat down and got up as per Garret’s request. A few seconds passed again before they heard Garret yell out in joy and felt more souls entering their being. Garret the came sliding down the ladder as well, a triumphant grin on his face.

Solaire commented, “I take it your experiment was a success?”

Garret gave a large nod, “Yeah! As far as I can tell, enemies respawn, return to life,” Garret preemptively answered Solaire’s question, “Whenever someone in the vicinity rests at a bonfire. I have taken the liberty to exploit that in order to net us as many souls as possible in a relatively short amount of time. Granted, it will eventually get to the point where this wastes more time than anything else, and I’m pretty sure this is just pocket change for you Solaire,” the aforementioned man gave a light shrug, “but for me and Oscar this is goldmine waiting to be mined to the last speck of gold”. Garret then climbed the ladder again, leaving Oscar and Solaire to fulfill their (boring) part of the plan.

Oscar, after about half a dozen sit-downs/rises, asked Solaire, “…So, how does one…‘praise the sun’?” Solaire, though Oscar could not tell, gave a warm smile at the question.

**A/N: Chapter’s up. The next one should include both Siegmeyer and the gargoyle boss fight (and Lautrec and Andre). Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Pigs are gross, and not the incandescent kind.

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_
  * **“Demon/deity speech”**



**Line Break**

 

Oscar and Solaire were, understandably, getting tired of having to stand up and sit back down every 30 seconds. Though they were undead, and as such did not tire as easy as a normal human, it was still boring. When Garret climbed down the ladder to meet them, saying that when he was done spending his souls they could move on, they were ready to jump for/praise in joy.

 

After spending his souls, Garret ran ahead of the group and killed the hollows on the bridge with the drake’s breath once more. He then exited the little room under the bridge to reveal a pathway. Turning to Solaire, he asked, “How’s your aim with those Lightning miracles?”

 

Solaire thought on that for a moment, before responding, “Fairly well I suppose. Why?”

 

“Because I need you,” he pointed to the knight, “to hit that,” Oscar and Solaire followed Garret’s finger, and saw the drake’s tail hanging off of a ledge.

 

Solaire was nonplussed at the request, but Oscar realized why Garret asked it, “This is about that weapon you were talking about earlier wasn’t it?”

 

Garret nodded, “Right you are my friend. My hope is that Solaire can hit the tail with a miracle, and when the drake moves you and I can shoot it with our respective arrows. Then we lather, rinse, and repeat until its tail falls off, revealing a sword, or it dies, leaving behind a scale, and the sword. Any problems?” Neither of the two knights saw an issue with the man’s proposition. “Excellent! Solaire, if you would be so kind”.

 

Solaire moved ahead of the two to get a better aim on his target. It was moving slightly, but Solaire was confident he could hit the shaft. He grabbed his talisman in his right hand, raised it, charged up godly light, and let the lightning fly. His aim was true, and the drake let out a harsh cry when it was struck. It hopped off its perch, its tail moving to so that it was swinging right in front of the trio. With a yell, “Now!” Oscar and Garret attacked the tail with their own projectiles, magic or otherwise.

 

The drake soon grew tired, and flew back to its perch. Solaire and Oscar feared that they had failed, but were bemused to see the tail return to its original spot. They turned to Garret, who just shrugged and motioned for Solaire to continue on. The process was repeated two more times. The third time a miracle hit the tail, the dragon spasmed as the tail detached, the tip flying in their direction. With a cry, all the moved out of the way as the projectile imbedded itself into the wall behind them. They gazed upward as they heard a loud cry, and felt a large influx of souls, telling them that the drake had died from the assault. Garret just sighed as he moved to pick up the new sword.

 

It was a strange looking weapon, green with a scaly pattern, a large guard curving down as the blade curved slightly upwards. The blade itself was wicked sharp, if the ease it slid out of the stone was any indication. A scale was sticking out of it, which Garret picked up and stuffed in his bag. He then smiled, “Great! That’s over and done with. Come on boys, places to go, things to kill, and souls to spend”. Garret then ran up the stairs, Oscar and Solaire following close behind.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar, having spent the load of souls he received from the drake, was observing the broken statue found on the courtyard, Solaire was gazing at the sun, and Garret was still at the bonfire, choosing what to spend his souls on. Garret was broken out of his musing by Solaire, who gave a heartfelt sigh, “Ah…just look at that glorious sun! Like a magnificent father…if only I could be so grossly incandescent!” Solaire spoke with a fond and reverent tone. Being completely honest, the zeal in which Solaire spoke of the sun was a tad unsettling to Oscar. Though he had gained a respect for his beliefs following their discussion on Solaire’s philosophy, he did not wish to hear about it every time the man saw the yellow orb which hung in the sky.

 

The two then heard the sound of a gate opening, and went back inside. They saw Garret heading further into the keep, and followed, though Solaire’s gaze fell on the statue of a woman carrying a baby, which held a sword, something he paid no heed to earlier. He took a closer look at it, and found a puzzling detail, _“Why…that looks like my blade…”_ Solaire would have thought more on the subject, but noted he was falling behind, and ran to catch up.

 

When he did catch up, he saw Oscar and Garret standing in front of a staircase, the sorcerers hand upon his chin, most likely thinking about how to approach the next area. The seer gave a long sigh, and turned to the two knights, “I’m going to need your honest opinion here boys. Would you rather fight a giant armored pig and half a dozen hollowed soldiers? Or a burnt knight of Gwyn’s wielding a humungous sword?” He turned to the pair, “Granted, we have to fight the pig regardless, and the knight is a completely optional opponent, but still, what’s your pick?”

 

The two knights thought on the subject for a while, thinking on which path would be less painful. Solaire voiced his thoughts first, “I say we let the knight be. If he will not attack us I see no point in aggravating him,” Oscar nodded his agreement.

 

Garret nodded before humming in thought. He then put his arms around their shoulders, bringing them to a huddle, “All right then, heres the plan. Solaire, you and I are going to take care of the soldiers running around. There are a few with swords and spears, but the most important ones are on a small walkway with crossbows, they are our priority. Oscar, you’re going to want to take out that spear of yours, you’ve got the pig”.

 

Oscar voiced his indignation, “Why do I have to fight the pig?”

 

“Because it has a small opening the back of its armor, and a spear, which you carry and know how to properly use, would do much more damage than any sword could when shoved into its backside,” Garret calmly replied. Solaire gave Oscar a pat on the back, while the knight just sighed in acceptance.

 

Garret then slapped the two on the back, and motioned for them to follow. At the top of the small staircase, they could see the pig, covered in steel plating, and number of hollow soldiers. They took care of a couple hollows that attacked them, and then Garret motioned for Solaire to run for the stairs to the left while he shot a soul arrow at the boar. The arrow struck the boar in the face, the impact causing it to shake its head and grunt in annoyance. It dragged its hoof across the ground before it charged at its attacker, who had run up the stairs as well. It got its tusks stuck in the entrance to the stairs, and as it was trying to escape Oscar snuck up behind it, gagging at the smell it was releasing. The man saw the hole Garret mentioned, and shuddered at what he was about to do. Gripping his spear in both hands, he shoved the weapon forward, right into the pigs flesh. The sensation of a blade piercing its flesh caused the pig to cry out and thrash. When Oscar pulled the spear out - _“Oh by the gods it smells like the pig!”-_ the pig thrashed a bit more, freeing itself from the entrance. Oscar ran away and brought out his shield, just in time to see the pig level an icy and hate-filled glare his way. The pig gave an angry cry, and charged at the knight. Oscar braced as it crashed into him; he was flown into the air, but righted himself and landed on his feet, dazed. The pig roared and charged again; Oscar, feeling that if he tried blocked again he his arm would shatter, rolled out of the way, but the pig swung its head, catching him and sending him sprawling. Thankfully, it then crashed into a wall, allowing Oscar to pick himself up and stab its exposed rear once more. This time, the thing died, vanishing in a flash of light, leaving only its helmet behind. Oscar took a swig of the Estus to heal himself, noticing that the other enemies in the area had been killed as well. He then picked up the helmet, inspecting it. _“Its certainly heavy,”_ he noted. He then tapped it a few times, _“Feels sturdy, might be better than my own. Still…it reeks”_ Oscar felt more than a little disturbed at the thought of wearing a helmet that was once worn by a very,  very smelly pig.

 

Garret and Solaire, having done their part, went to where Oscar was standing. Garret saw the helmet, and asked, “You going to wear that? Cause if you won’t I will”. Oscar just gave the man a long look, before handing him the helmet. Garret clapped in glee before grabbing it. His face twisted in confusion though, once he smelled it. To Oscar’s discomfort however, Garret shrugged his shoulders and put it on. He shook his head to make sure it was snug, but fell over due to its weight. Solaire gave a hearty laugh and Oscar gave a light chuckle. Garret just picked himself back up before smiling, “Whew! This thing’s heavy, and kinda smells. Still, better than going around without wearing some form of headgear. Come on then, one guy closed the gate, so we’ll have to go the long way around, though it’s probably for the best”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Solaire and Oscar were both giving odd looks at the sight before them, while Garret’s face looked like it was going to brake given his large smile (he took off his helmet for this occasion, and because his nostrils could only take so much abuse). In front of them was a man in a large, round set of white armor. His helmet looked like…like…it was an onion. The man wearing the armor was asleep, if his snores were any indication, dozing peacefully in front of a set of large, closed gates leading to an impressive looking fortress. Solaire was about to ask why this man was sleeping here, and why they themselves sought to wake him, but Oscar put a hand on his shoulder stopping him. Solaire looked back, and Oscar said, “Believe me, whatever questions you have will be answered by the time he is done,” Solaire took his word for it and stayed silent.

 

Garret had moved in front of the sleeping knight, and cleared his throat. When that failed to wake the man up, he then gave a small, but still loud, “Hello”. Still, the figure refused to wake. Garret was about to knock on the man’s helmet, but stopped, as that would be seen as a rude way to wake someone you just met. Instead, he took out two shields, and smashed then together. The resulting clang was enough make the man jerk his head.

 

“HMM! What…? Oh, hello there good sirs. I see that you have taken it upon yourselves to wake me up,” the man bowed his head slightly in thanks, “I am-”

 

“Siegmeyer of Catarina, who came to this land seeking adventure, but stopped in front of the closed gate to rest a spell”. Siegmeyer was nonplussed, and Garret quickly added, “I can see into the future, and you were one of those that I saw”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Ahh, then it was fate that we all were to meet I suppose. Well, you know my name, but I don’t know yours,” they quickly told him who they were, “Well, it is great to meet such pleasant people in this land”.

 

Garret absentmindedly nodded, “Uh-uh yeah. Anyway, how would you like to come with us?”

 

Siegmeyer pointed to himself, amused, “Truly, you want to travel with this bag of bones? Or rather, pounds of flesh,” he patted the belly of his armor, chuckling.

 

Garret replied, “You can one-hand a Zweihander like its nothing and are wearing some impressive armor that serves to minimize the damage dealt by slashing weapons due to its curved shape. Believe me, you will be a very welcome addition to our little group”.

 

Siegmeyer beamed at the praise, “Ah! At least there is someone out there who can see my homelands armor for its true worth”. He then hopped off his perch, and stood in front of them, giving a salute “Very well then! Siegmeyer, knight of Catarina, at your service!”

 

Behind the two, Solaire turned to Oscar, “You were right friend. My questions were answered”. Oscar just looked at him, and gave slow nod.

 

 **A/N: Okay, so I only fulfilled 50% of my previous promise, but hey, things happen so…yeah. Next chapter though, the first bell shall be rung. Remember to leave a review. Later.**  


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Decisions, Decisions

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_
  * **“Demon/deity speech”**



The newly minted quartet had traveled the short distance from the gates of Sen’s fortress to the current dwellings of one of the last sane men in the kingdom. The man in question towered above the four, and was certainly very muscular (which, in all honesty, is to be expected of a blacksmith). He was hammering away on a lone strip of metal, seemingly unaware of the four men staring at him in awe, (well, three men, Garret had a more inquisitive look on his face). Eventually, the blacksmith spoke, “Well, dont’cha know its rude to stare?” That broke Garret and the others out of their stupor.

 

Garret was the first to speak, “Sorry about that Andre, its just different seeing you in person”.

 

Andre stopped hammering, now looking intently at the group before him, “Hold on, how d’you know-”

 

Garret interrupted him, “I have the ability to see into the future, which entails knowing your name,” he finished with a sigh, muttering “I should start making cards that I can just hand people. Wait, does the textile even exist here? Then again, I suppose the soapstone works just as well, but that would only make sense if I stayed in one place. And that won’t do because-”

 

“Garret” Oscar cut him off. Said man turned to look at the knight, who exasperatedly stated, “Your rambling again”. Garret smiled sheepishly before scratching his head. Solaire and Siegmeyer chortled at the exchange.

 

Andre himself gave a hearty laugh, “Well, its always good to see people who still try and find a little joy in this life. Anyway, though you already know this, I am Andre of Astora, a humble blacksmith”.

 

Oscar and Solaire both blinked at that information, and Solaire asked, “Hold on, you’re from Astora?”

 

Andre cocked an eyebrow at the incredulity in the remark, “Yeah, what, don’t believe me?”

 

Solaire realized his faux pas and quickly added, “Er, I mean, its just that-”

 

Oscar decided to help out his countryman, “What he means is that, well, you’re a lot bigger than the average astoran. In fact, based on looks alone, I would say you came from Berenike”.

 

Andre nodded in understanding, “Oh, well that’s understandably. In that case, you could say I’m only half astoran, my mother was the one from Berenike, gods bless her. She was huge, larger than meself”.

 

The four then developed a mental image of Andre’s family, which entailed an average man, a beast of a woman, and a little baby with a full-grown Andre’s head in place of its own. Oscar scrunched up his face at the image, Solaire wondered how large their home must have been, Garret shuddered at the thought of the parents’ (mainly the father’s) love life, and Siegmeyer lost himself to the memories of his own wife and child back home. Garret shook his head and groaned, “Well great, now that’s going to be stuck in my head till who knows when. Anyway, Andre, quick question,” Andre gave Garret his full attention, “Do you regularly douse your beard in water, or are you just naturally fireproof?”

 

Everyone present gave the sorcerer incredulous looks, Andre eventually asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

 

“It’s just…okay look. There are four sane blacksmith’s left in this dreadful land. One’s a sorcerer-smith, who mainly deals in magical enhancements, and even if something bursts into flames, he can just put it out with magic. Another one is a giant, fully decked out in armor, not to mention the fact that he physically cannot bend close enough to the metal to risk getting burned. The last guy, and I’m being serious here, is a skeleton, and bones don’t catch fire, granted they can melt in lava, but that’s beside the point. Hush Oscar,” Garret held up a finger to the knight, “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m getting to the point, which is, how come that,” he pointed, a bit dramatically, at Andre’s impressive facial hair, “Has not burst into flames given the sparks it comes into contact with?”

 

Andre was speechless, and could only respond with, “…I’m…naturally resistant…I suppose?”

 

Garret stared at the blacksmith before nodding, “Very well then. Come on you three, we have a bell to ring. See you later Andre”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed before asking, “Wait a moment. Shouldn’t we have our weapons and armor repaired before we head back into the fray?”

 

Garret just shook his head, “No, it’ll be a waste. Trust me, we are going to take some beatings, and then we’ll just have to get all of our stuff repaired again, better to just come back after ringing the bell”. All present acquiesced to the logic, and followed Garret up the stairs.

 

Andre called out to them, “Don’t get yourselves’ killed. None of us want to see you go hollow”. He started hammering away again, “Besides, if you go, so does my business”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar and Siegmeyer had just killed the two soldier hollows in front of the church before Garret called everyone in a huddle. He then took a deep sigh and gained a pensive look on his face, “…Boys, not gonna lie, this this probably going to suck. In the church, there are a number of Baldur knights, like, a dozen mindless hollows, one of Seath’s channelers, and a giant Berenike knight wielding a mace”. All present grew nervous at the sheer amount of foes they would have to face. “So, here’s the plan,” he held out his arm and clenched his fist, “We run in there, scream like crazy, swing our blades like madmen, and pray to whatever god you follow that we kill something”. Though all present wore full mask helmets, their disbelieving stares were easily felt on the pig helmet-wearing sorcerer.

 

Siegmeyer was the first to break the silence, “Um, I hate to be a bother but, you are joking, right?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Oh yeah of course. I mean, if I were alone, then that’s my strategy, but with you guys here, we can actually plan and stuff”. The three knights let out small sighs of relief. “Moving on,” Garret spoke again, “Siegmeyer and Solaire, you two are going to take on the knight, me and Oscar will shoot at the channeler. Thankfully, they are not on the same floor, so the knight won’t receive any boosts if the channeler does its dance-don’t ask,” Solaire put his hand down. “After that, we take out the Baldur knights and head on-no, wait, never mind, there are a couple things that still need to be done before fighting the bell guardians”.

 

“Pray tell,” Oscar asked.

 

Garret started counting on his fingers, “Well, in the alter at the front of the church there is another firekeeper soul, Oscar I’ll trust you can handle that,” Oscar nodded, “There is also an elevator that will head down straight to Firelink shrine, so we have easy access with that. Um, the gate needs to be open, and there is one other thing I need to take care of, but yeah, after all that, we’re good to go”. All present nodded, content with the current strategy. Garret jerked his head up, “Oh, one more thing, Siegmeyer,” the onion knight hummed in response, “How’d you like a better sword?” Garret then, to Siegmeyer’s astonishment, pulled a thick and dark sword from his satchel. Garret struggled a bit with the weight, but held it out to Siegmeyer nonetheless. Siegmeyer looked closely at the blade, and could tell it was a powerful weapon, despite its charred look.

 

But, Siegmeyer shook his head, hefting his on Zweihander, “Thank you for the offer friend, but I’ll stick with this blade here. It was a gift you see, from my dear wife and daughter. Have I told you about them?”

 

Garret put the black night sword away, “No, but we really don’t have time right now”. Siegmeyer nodded, following Garret and the others into the building.

 

Siegmeyer got a look at the knight, and noting that the spike on his shield would not do as much damage as he would like, opted to two-hand his Zweihander. With a turn of his head, he noted that his new companions were battle ready as well. Nodding, Siegmeyer rushed towards the Berenike knight with a mighty bellow, slashing at its unprotected side. The knight stumbled in shock from the blow, but was hit twice in rapid succession by Solaire, who had managed to slash at its back. With a speed betraying its size, the knight swung its mace at Solaire, who barely managed to block it in time, and was sent flying into a wall. Siegmeyer swung at the knight again, but his blow bounced off of its large shield. The knight focused once more on Siegmeyer, who rolled to avoid its mace crashing into the ground. The weapon’s impact was large enough to upset his balance however, and Siegmeyer was forced to hold a pillar in support. He turned to see the knight rear its mace high in the air, but a sizzling sound caught both their attentions, and a flash of light burst from the knight’s back. A few feet away, Solaire stood, having just shot off a lightning miracle at their foe. The knight was still standing however, if a bit dazed. Readjusting his grip, Siegmeyer charged once more, and leapt in the air, slashing the knight across its chest. With a painful cry, the knight dropped its weapons, dissipating in white light.

 

Siegmeyer let out a deep breath he hadn’t known he held in. This, this feeling in his gut was what he left home for (undead curse notwithstanding). The exhilaration of battle, testing your mettle against foes as good or better then you, and succeeding. He still loved his family dearly, and was more than happy to give up the adventurer’s lifestyle for the chance to see his beautiful little girl grow up, but he still missed the rush.

 

He turned his head to see that Oscar and Garret finishing off the last off the Baldur knights on this floor. He then hefted his sword on his shoulders, and saw Solaire bend down to pick up something the fell in the knight’s place. Siegmeyer walked over to speak with his companion, “I must say, great shot sir knight”.

 

Solaire chuckled, “Well thank you, but please, just call me Solaire, after all, we are all undead here”. Siegmeyer let out his own chuckle, patting his belly.

 

Oscar passed them bye with a congratulatory wave, heading straight to the altar. Garret stopped, “Hey, great job you two. Knew it was a good idea to bring you aboard,” Garret hugged them both by their shoulders, gaining bashful looks from both knights. Garret just smiled and patted them both on their backs. Oscar returned, having grabbed the firekeeper’s soul, and asked what they should do next. “Well,” Garret answered, “There is one more Baldur knight up those stairs to the left, as well as all those hollows. I’ll need your help clearing those out, and then you can go down the elevator.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret let out a huff, smoothing his hair-he noticed that he was beginning to get used to the stench the helmet gave off, and that worried him a bit, so he took it off-once again bemoaning that the channeler didn’t leave its trident behind. _“Oh well, its not like we really need to stat boosts. The ten-minuet long health and stamina boosts…I’m not helping myself”_. He found himself in front of the broken door leading to the cage where Lautrec was being held. Even know, he still had reservations about letting the devout knight free. _“…At the end of the day, he’s getting out no matter what. And if I want to help Anastacia he needs to kill her and take her soul…One thing’s for sure, Oscar’s going to want to kill me once all this goes down”._ With a shuddering sigh, Garret kicked the debris away. He walked up the steps and soon saw Lautrec, sitting against the wall of his cell. Lautrec looked up in surprise.

 

“Oh,” he spoke in his rough voice, “still human are you? Then I am in luck. Would you-” he was cut short as Garret quickly unlocked that cell, throwing the door open with enough force to rattle its hinges. Garret turned around just as quickly. Lautrec voiced his confusion, “What? Not even going to say hello?”

 

Garret stopped, and turned his head, leveling the knight a glare that sent shivers down his spine, “Our futures are murky,” ill-disguised venom dripped from his words “Lets not get too friendly”. With that said, Garret reequipped the bore helmet and jumped off the top of the stairs, leaving Lautrec to wonder just what he did to piss off the sorcerer.

**Line Break**

 

Oscar, Siegmeyer, and Solaire were all quiet on the trip back up from Firelink shrine. Siegmeyer broke the silence, “I say, your sister is a charming girl. Shame she is forced to stay behind those dreadful bars. And the company is none too pleasant either”.

 

“Yes,” Oscar sighed, “That Petrus seems a bit too stuck up for my taste”.

 

“Not to mention that sad soul by the bonfire,” Solaire chipped in, “A shame that he sees fit to simply do nothing. But still, if that’s what keeps him human”. Oscar would have responded, but then the elevator reached the top, and the gate opened to reveal Garret leaning against a pillar.

 

Garret looked up as he heard the three near him, “Hey, you guys rest at the bonfire?” they nodded, “Hmm, I did too. Took the liberty to kill everything standing between us and the bell,” he started moving, “Let’s go”.

 

Upon entering the upper floor, the knights were shocked at the sight before them. Not the dozen or so bodies strewn across the room, that was expected, but the brutal states of said bodies were a surprise. Limbs and heads were separated from bodies, deep gashes all along the bodies themselves. If hollows could bleed, they would be ankle deep in blood.

 

Garret noticed that no one was following him, and turned to ask what was wrong. It was then he remembered that after his “talk” with Lautrec, he was very angry, and vented out on the respawned enemies, particularly the mindless hollows. His three companions all turned to him, their silence doing all the talking. Garret just plastered a wide, sheepish smile, “I, uh, wanted to break in the halberd I got…yeah”. Everyone still stared at him, and he back at them. Eventually, Oscar shook his head and moved forward, giving Garret an awkward pat on the shoulder. Siegmeyer and Solaire followed suit, careful to avoid any body parts. Solaire did stop to talk to Garret though, saying, “I will say this my friend, if you show half as much ferocity towards the guardian of the bell, our victory will be assured”. Solaire squeezed Garret’s arm in a comforting manner, and then began climbing up to the roof. Garret just sighed and smiled at Solaire’s gesture of support, then trailed close behind.

 

Once they had finished the climb, the three knights turned to Garret, “All right,” he began, “These guys, gargoyles actually, should be fairly simple to beat. For one, there are two of them, both perched on the tower itself, but the second one only shows up after the first one has already taken some heavy damage. They can fly, and breathe fire, but prefer to stay on the rooftop and stab at us with their weapons. The first one can swing his tail like an axe, but it can also be cut off, with the added benefit of his tail becoming a pretty sweet war axe. They are weak to fire, but since none of us are pyromancers that doesn’t really apply. The attacks are all easily telegraphed, and blockable. Don’t try to block the breath attacks though, it’ll only end badly. The way I see it, me and Solaire will hang back and shoot the things with magic while you two get up close and personal, agreed?” Siegmeyer and Solaire nodded, while Oscar just shrugged. “All right then,” Garret held his sword up in an angle, and the others followed his example, their blades crossing in the air. “Let us go forth,” he bellowed with vigor, “In the name of Jolly Cooperation!” Solaire and Siegmeyer cheered mighty “Huzzahs!” while Oscar started laughing. He then led the group out the fog door, moving through the cool mist onto the church rooftop.

 

The sun blazed overhead, not a cloud in the sky to impede its heat. Oscar swept his head side-to-side, scanning for danger; Siegmeyer was humming, a low, troubled hum compared to his usual jovial tunes; Solaire was clenching his talisman tightly, lightning crackling in his hand; Garret looked up at the bell tower with a hard expression, eager to get this over with. He motioned for Siegmeyer and Oscar to move forward, pulling out his staff, ready to fire. The two knights slowly walked forward, shields raised in anticipation. Once they got about halfway across, a loud crack reverberated through the air. Both men immediately looked to the top of the bell tower, and saw one of the statues begin to move in place. The statue then burst, bits of rock flying everywhere as the gargoyle roared and took flight. It circled around the tower before zooming down in front of the duo. It crashed onto the roof and roared, some flames licking the air around its maw. Oscar and Siegmeyer gave each other reassuring nods (steeling their nerves) and charged.

 

The beast roared in acceptance to their challenge, and leapt in the air. Oscar and Siegmeyer scattered as it hovered above them, escaping the crushing blow of its blade. It hefted the blade, and turned to Oscar, who was closest. It ran forward, and swung its blade in a wide, horizontal arc. Oscar dodged under the strike, and struck its body. It bellowed in pain, which was amplified when it was hit in the back by a lighting spear and soul arrow. It growled at its new attackers, who were charging up some more shots. It rushed the duo, stiffening as it was hit, but otherwise remained unimpeded. Both men rolled out of the way as it leapt into the air and tried to crush them beneath its stone feet. It snarled in annoyance, before yelping (of all things) in pain, as well as stumble a bit. It turned to see Siegmeyer, who had cleanly cut off its tail, and was now holding the thing in his other hand. The beast roared at Siegmeyer, who decided to give the beast a lesson in irony and smashed its freshly cut tail into its maw. It recoiled in pain before jumping in the air, flying crooked before landing opposite the group. It glared at them with its cold, dead eyes, and then grinned as well as a gargoyle could when its now awake comrade joined the fray. Both beasts inhaled greatly-with Garret barely able to scream, “Scatter!”-and released a combined inferno of flames.

 

The smoke from the attack permeated the air, but two magical projectiles still found their marks: an arrow for the damaged one, and a spear for the newcomer. Both beasts roared, but the former started to choke mid-roar, before disappearing in a flash of white, Oscar’s sword having just been shoved into its chest. Its sibling roared in anger, and swung its tail at Oscar, who was caught off-guard, and was sent careening across the roof. Before the monster could celebrate however, an axe embedded itself into its chest, and it soon found itself surrounded by Solaire, Siegmeyer, and Garret, all mercilessly hacking away.

 

With a mighty flap of its wings, it sent the three skidding back, before hovering in the air and raining fire down upon them. At least, that was the plan, before a sharp pain in its left knee forced it to smash on the rooftop. It saw an arrow sticking out its kneecap, and glared forward to see Oscar with bow, panting heavily. By the time it started to suck in breath to burn him to a crisp however; Siegmeyer had jumped in front of it. Planting a foot on its chest, Siegmeyer wrenched the axe embedded in its body free, before slamming it on top of the beast’s head. It didn’t even get to cry out before disintegrating in a white light, its halberd left in its place.

 

Siegmeyer was panting heavily, and didn’t notice Garret walking up to him until he patted him on the back, “Woah! Siegmeyer, that was amazing!”

 

Siegmeyer hummed bashfully, “Oh, well, thank you I suppose. Don’t really know where that came from, I just let my body do the moving”.

 

“Good thing too,” Oscar took a swig of his estus, “I was afraid I was going to be end up roasted”.

 

“Indeed,” Solaire clasped Siegmeyer on the shoulder, “I doubt that any of us save you have the strength to pull off such a maneuver my friend. I’m sure if your family were here, they would sing in praise”.

 

Siegmeyer chuckled, “Oh, I doubt that. The missus has a terrible singing voice, something that my precious Lin was unlucky enough to inherit”.

 

Garret chuckled as well, before pocketing the gargoyle’s halberd, “Well, come on you three, got us a bell to ring”.

 

**A/N: And there we are. Next chapter marks the halfway point of the first third of the game (DLC notwithstanding). Next chapter brings forth weapon upgrades, a demon made of godly stone, and everyone’s favorite topic, religion. Remember to leave a review. Later.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

420YOLOSWAG4VELKA

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Garret led the way inside the bell tower; the three knights following close behind. After they were all inside he turned around, “So, since there is really no need for all of us to go and ring this thing, I’ll just head up alone”. He started up the ladder, but then paused and looked over his shoulder, “Oh, and we’re expecting company…of the religious kind…see ya,” he climbed the ladder.

 

The three knights sent each other questioning glances, “Could he be talking about that Petrus fellow?” Solaire asked.

 

“I doubt it,” Siegmeyer replied, “that man was quite adamant to stay and wait for his group. Perhaps we will meet one of his party?”

 

“…Or a man dressed in all black and wearing a mask,” Siegmeyer and Solaire turned to Oscar, who was looking out the doorway. They moved to look out the tower themselves, and indeed, walking calmly across the roof was a man garbed in a black cloak wearing an ornate mask. As the man got near the trio backed up to let him enter.

 

Upon seeing the three the man paused and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. He then flicked his gaze upward as the gong of the bell reverberated through the air, and shrugged, spreading his arms wide. “Greetings,” the trio turned their gaze from the ceiling to the man, “I am Oswald of Carim, the Pardoner,” he then swept his gaze across the trio, landing on Siegmeyer and Solaire, “Thou appearest to lack faith, yet magnanimous are the gods”.

 

Siegmeyer tilted his head at the man, “Pardon, what does that mean?”

 

“Thou hast not entered a covenant,” Oswald stated simply.

 

Siegmeyer nodded, “Ah. Well,” he patted his belly, “I never saw the need I suppose”.

 

Oswald shrugged, “Regardless, thou can still confess, or accuse if it pleases”.

 

“Accuse?”, Oscar asked.

 

Oswald gave a smooth smile, “All sin is my domain”.

 

The three pondered the man’s words, but were ultimately interrupted as Garret slid down the ladder and joined them. He stuck a finger in his ear as he walked over, “Mawp…Mawp…Mawp. Geez, that thing is loud!” He noticed Oswald, and jerked back a bit, “Woah! Knew you were coming, doesn’t make it any less weird”.

 

Oswald frowned, “Thou knewst I was coming? How?”

 

Garret waved a hand as he headed for the exit, “I’m magical. Let’s leave it at that”.

 

**Line Break**

 

The undead quartet was walking down the stairs leading to the main chapel. Stopping in front of the elevator, Garret asked, “Okay, who here wants to travel back the undead asylum so that I can get a doll and some jewelry?”

 

Siegmeyer and Solaire were baffled at the question, but Oscar quickly asked, “Will this involve those giant birds?” Garret gave a smiling nod, “Well count me out”.

 

“I am afraid I will have to decline as well. When I got here the poor bird nearly died of exhaustion,” Siegmeyer added.

 

Garret looked at Solaire, who shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind”.

 

“Cool,” Garret said, and walked into the elevator, “We’ll spend our souls first though…rather, I need to grab a key first, but yeah, I tell you when we’ll had out,” Solaire nodded.

 

About three-fourths of the way down, Garret leapt off the elevator, rolling onto a decrepit roof and continuing forward. The knights paid this little mind.

 

After they exited the elevator, the were met by the questioning stare of Petrus, he asked, “Did you by chance ring that bell?” Solaire nodded, “I see…” Evidently Petrus had no more to say on the subject, and the trio continued on their way.

 

The Crestfallen Knight was more talkative, “My my,” he chuckled, “You lot actually went and rung the bell. Something like that hasn’t happened in a long while now. Not since that one fellow, oh what was his name…Terrence? Taylor? Bah, doesn’t matter, obviously he failed,” he gave the three a harsh grin, “Wonder if you will do the same?”

 

Siegmeyer was about to chastise the man for his negativity, but a splash of water followed by a short curse stopped him. They all turned to see Garret hobble forward, favoring his left leg over his right. He looked up at Solaire, saying, “After I heal up we’ll head out-man that smarts!”

 

One short rest later and the Warrior of Sunlight left for the Asylum with the eccentric sorcerer. Oscar took the time to go visit his sister once more. He was startled to see a man in strange golden armor sitting in front of his sisters dwelling. A quick look at Ana and he could see that, while she was not afraid of the figure, she was certainly wary of him. Letting his brotherly instinct take over, he stalked over to the man, “Excuse me, but who are you?”

 

The man tilted his head (and strange helmet) upwards, “Well, aren’t you a little rude, not even bothering to introduce yourself”.

 

Oscar crossed his arms, “Oscar of Astora”.

 

The golden man gave a small nod of his head,” Lautrec of Carim”.

 

“…What are you doing?”

 

Lautrec did not answer immediately, “…Such a sad and pathetic being don’t you think?” Oscar bristled, “One has to wonder how she can stand to keep on living such a dreadful life,” he then directly faced Oscar, “But I digress. In truth I am just about to leave this place. Milady Fina still has more for me to do,” just then, two crows cawed and flew far away overhead.

 

Oscar cleared his throat, “Yes well, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from speaking to my sister in such a manner again”.

 

Lautrec looked back and forth between the siblings, “Sister huh?...I don’t see it. Well, regardless of her circumstances, she has served me well”.

 

Oscar could hear the smirk on the man’s face, but instead of punching the smug man he decided to walk over to his sister, but not before giving golden and overall dangerous looking man one last look.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret and Solaire tumbled onto the Cliffside just outside the asylum. After regaining their bearings, both men took a moment to gaze upon their old prison. “I must admit,” Solaire broke the silence, “I never thought I would come back here again”.

 

Garret shrugged, “Yeah well, there is at least one thing here that is absolutely vital to our quest”.

 

“Would this be the piece of jewelry, or the doll?”

 

“The ring,” Solaire nodded and started walking towards the building. Garret followed, but then took a sharp left. “Where are you going?”

 

“Gonna trade this trash for some titanite”. Intrigued, Solaire followed.

 

He turned a corner and saw Garret carefully inch his way towards a large nest with 2 eggs. “You, you,” Solaire jerked his head around, searching for the speaker,” “Give me, warm. Give me, soft”.

 

Garret ignored the voice and simple placed some trash in the middle of the nest. He waited for a moment, then shrugged, heading back to Solaire. At the knight’s questioning glance he said, “She’s shy I suppose. I’ll just check back after we finish up in the asylum. Anyway,” he clapped his hands, “There are six enemies between standing between us and the bonfire. Four of the bastards have torches that will cause some serious burns. Once inside however, the last two will be easy to deal with. Just, avoid the middle of the room. The floor will give way and we’ll have to fight another demon, and I’d rather save that for last, if at all”. Solaire nodded and readied his talisman.

 

The duo stood a few yards away from the undead, just out of their initial sight. Both men raised their magical focus and fired, one bolt of holy lightning, and one arrow of sorcery. The bolt killed its enemy, but the arrow just knocked its target back. Not that it mattered, as Garret killed it with a fast swing of his sword. He then backpedaled, bringing his shield up to block a flurry of strikes. The heat seeped through his shield, but that didn’t matter as Solaire quickly put it and its accomplice down.

 

Garret sent Solaire a grateful smile, which he reciprocated with a nod. They then headed into the building, and immediately separated to deal with one of the two hollows available.

 

Solaire ran towards his mark and jumped into the air, intent on bisecting his enemy. Unfortunately for Solaire, his enemy sidestepped away, and sword clanged on the ground, shaking his body. He threw himself forward to avoid a blow, and came up in a low crouch. The hollow threw itself at him, to which he quickly raised his sword and skewered the thing before it could strike. Luck was yet again working against him however, as the force the hollow threw itself with sent him sliding back, and into the now crumbling floor. He quickly dropped his sword (and the enemy it lied in) and his shield in favor of grabbing a ledge.

 

He scrambled for a few tense seconds before latching onto a sturdy brick. With a sigh of relief he gave a quick prayer of thanks to all the gods he could think of.

 

“Need a hand?”

 

Solaire looked up to see Garret leaning over him, a wry smile on his lips, “If it’s not too much trouble” Solaire replied.

 

Garret’s smirk widened as his grasped Solaire’s left arm. With a mighty (for a sorcerer) heave, Solaire lurched forward, and quickly pulled himself up to solid ground. After dusting himself off, Solaire was quick to retrieve his weaponry. He looked over his shoulder to see Garret still peering over the ledge. Solaire himself took a look, and saw a demon glaring up at them from the basement floor. “…On a scale of 1 to 10, how mad would he be if I spit on him?”

 

Solaire gave the sorcerer a bewildered look, “Umm, perhaps you should not antagonize the demon that already looks like it wants to kill us?”

 

Garret shrugged and got up, “Sure, whatever you say,” he then led the way to the bonfire, dutifully ignoring the gaping hole in the floor.

 

**Line Break**

 

“…Rather unimpressive looking isn’t it?” Garret said; scrutinizing the rusty ring he held between his fingers.

 

Solaire nodded, “Yes. But, we would not have gone through all this trouble to get it were it not important, would we?”

 

Garret looked over to Solaire with a grin, “Right you are my good man. This ring allows people to travel through any sort of liquid obstacle unimpeded…Except for lava, that’s another ring’s job”.

 

Solaire looked at the ring in a new light, guessing that it would certainly be of great use to their group. A thought entered his mind, “Hold on, are there more rings for all of us to use, or are we meant to share it?”

 

Garret frowned as he pocketed the ring, “Honestly, yeah, we kind off have to share it. But that’s fine, since whenever one of us is done with it we just put in in our satchel for someone else to grab,” he clapped Solaire’s shoulder, “Hammerspace is a beautiful thing,” he then jumped down the broken staircase, gesturing for Solaire to follow.

 

After hopping down himself, Solaire followed Garret down a corrider leading deeper in the asylum. Garret then stopped and turned around, “Okay, for some reason, there is a black knight standing watch at the end of the corridor into the hallway. We can’t hit him from here, so I’m going to run up and grab his attention while you ready a lighting bolt”. After a quick nod, Garret ran down the corridor and out into the adjacent hallway, struck a funny pose, dodged a powerful strike, and booked it back into the corridor.

 

Solaire raised his talisman, crackling with energy, but did not form a bolt of holy lightning, not yet. Something he had learned over his career was that aiming could be tricky, since unlike sorcery, miracles relied on one’s own aim, and he always undershot his downward throws. As such, even when Garret had run up to meet him, he waited until he was sure he could hit the marauding knight clear in its chest. His patience was rewarded (despite Garret’s increasingly worried ramblings) and when he hurled the lightning bolt the knight staggered backwards and tripped down the stairs. It landed with in a heap, and the Warrior of Sunlight was pleased to hear its anguished roar as it dissipated into white light.

 

Solaire looked over to Garret, who was staring slack jawed at the spot where the knight disappeared. He snapped out of his stupor when Solaire patted his shoulder, “Damn,” he said, “Never thought I’d see one of Gwyn’s knights die via staircase”. Both men chuckled, and after grabbing the knight’s titanite, turned around to go and recuperate at the bonfire.

 

After a quick recharge the two sped down the ladder leading to the deeper parts of the dungeon, and stopped once more to listen, “Okay, there is another knight down by my old cell. There will be some distance between us, and we can take the time to shoot at him while he runs to us. If that doesn’t kill him, you keep him busy while I go around for a backstab”. Solaire merely raised his talisman in anticipation.

 

As it was, neither needed to resort to getting up close and personal with the knight, as it died halfway down the hall from the barrage of magic. With a pleased and cocky swagger, Garret whistled his way down to his old cell, offhandedly grabbing its shield-“YES!”-and some titanite. He then stopped whistling as he entered his cell and bent down low to pick up an old and ratty doll. Upon close inspection (since he could now actually hold the thing up close) he saw that, thought crudely made and worn with time, there weren’t any signs of abusive play. There weren’t any new seems to hold it together as far as he could tell, and its limbs weren’t stretchy and limp. _“Priscilla probably lost this thing a while ago”_ he gave a low, deep sigh.

 

“Garret,” Solaire had caught up after spending some time to stare at the Stray Demon stomping in the other room, “what are you…”

 

Garret tuned around to see why Solaire trailed off, and was surprised to see the knight’s gaze fixed firmly on the doll. Solaire reached for it, and Garret, abundantly curious and confused, gave it to him. After watching the knight tenderly hold the doll, Garret entertained the uncomfortable thought that, if Solaire actually was Gwyn’s long lost son, anything related to Crossbreed ‘so deadly the gods felt the need to send her to a desolate wasteland’ Priscilla could quickly turn ugly. He then, slowly, asked, “Everything okay buddy?”

 

Solaire didn’t seen to register the question, then looked up and jolted a bit, “Oh, sorry Garret,” he handed the doll back, “Just, I felt something when I saw that doll. But for the life of me I can’t say what it was?”

 

Garret put the doll safely away, “Was it…a negative feeling?”

 

Solaire shook his head, “Well, sort of…I’m sorry, but I really can’t describe it”.

 

Garret slowly nodded as he wrung his hands together, “Right, well, come on then,” Garret made a mental note to do file that away under ‘supporting facts to a Dark Souls theory’.

 

**Line Break**

 

“You sure you want to do this? I can always come back later and do it solo”.

 

Solaire just shook his head in response, “No my friend, might as well kill it now, while we are here”.

 

Garret nodded in turn, “All right then. Let’s do this”.

 

The two men entered the large room, which had somehow regained its complete, thought unstable, floor. After Solaire put down one of the hollows that tried to rush them, Garret and Solaire both grabbed the remaining hollow by its arms and legs, ignoring its cries and struggles.

 

Stopping just short of the unstable floor, Garret started to count, “One,” they started to swing the thing, “Two,” its futile squirming increased, “Three!” they let go and watched as it fell through the floor and landed on the demon’s staff.

 

The demon stopped and stared at its now hollow adorned staff. It then cried out in pain as a sword pierced its skull. It staggered when Solaire jumped off, and then roared even louder as Garret rammed his thicker blade in the same hole. Blood now seeping from its head, it bared its misshaped teeth pair before sweeping its staff in front of it. It missed by a mile, but the hollow on top flew forward and rammed into Garret, who fell into a heap of undead limbs. As Garret was occupied, Solaire dashed forward to engage the beast head on. It swung its staff again, but Solaire rolled underneath and rose up with a quick slash of his sword. The beast snarled as it lifted its staff in the air, red-hot energy pooling from the bottom. Solaire backpedaled and raised his shield in defense, just as the demon slammed its staff to the ground, sending forth a wave of magic. He managed to block most of it, but he could still feel the demonic energy seep into his body. Rolling his shoulders, he charged forward once more, pleased to see that Garret had gotten up again, as evident by the soul arrow that hit the demon’s chest. It swung its staff again, and once more Solaire rolled and hit its belly. This time however, instead of retaliating, it vanished in a flash of white light.

 

Solaire heaved a large breath as souls entered his body. He sheathed his blade before turning over to Garret, grabbing the slab of solid titanite the beast dropped. “Let me say,” Solaire smiled as he put the slab away, “that this has been a very lucrative trip”.

 

Garret smirked, “That it has. Now come on, lets get out of here. As nice as it was strolling these halls once more, the stench is starting to permeate through my helmet, and that worries me”. Solaire laughed, following the sorcerer up a nearby ladder.

 

**A/N: And done. Also, though it is still some time away, when Dark Souls III comes out this story is going to be put on hold. In part because most if not all of my time will be spent glued to my console, but more importantly because I’ll want to see whether or not I’ll need to change some of the things I have planned out for this story. Since this (as far as I know) is the last game in the series I have a feeling a lot of things are going to be coming together, and hopefully some of the fans’ longstanding questions and theories will finally be answered. Anyway, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Moonlight Butterfly Effect

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

“Hello there boys,” Andre stopped his work as the four from earlier once again entered his makeshift shop. He took note the sorcerer and sun knight’s more ragged appearance, “In need of some repairs?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yup, oh and Siegmeyer,” the onion knight inclined his head, “You’re going to stick with that Zweihander right?” A nod, “Give it over, we’ll upgrade it, and any other weapons you guys want, as much as we can”. The four then began to strip off their armor.

 

Andre looked up, and then began to protest, “Woah! What do you all think you’re doing?”

 

Solaire frowned, “Giving you our armor to repair”.

 

“Doesn’t mean you have to strip into you’re birthday suits”

 

Garret raised an eyebrow, “Then, how will you repair it?”

 

Andre rolled his eyes, “I’ll sprinkle some repair powder, and then you pay by how much I had to use up, obviously. It’d be stupid of you to think I could just repair all your armor in enough time for you to be on your way by myself”.

 

Now it was Oscar’s turn to frown, “But, the other blacksmith we met, we had to give him our armor for him to repair by hand”.

 

Andre rummaged through a chest, “Well, that means one of a few things. He likes to work by hand, he doesn’t have enough powder on hand,”

 

Garret grimaced, “What else?”

 

Andre gave him a blank look, “…He swings his sword the other way”.

 

Oscar and Garret shared a look, and shivered.

 

After being sprinkled by magic fixing dust (and receiving Siegmeyer’s upgraded blade) Garret asked Andre, “In an attempt to shove that horrible thought as far away from my mind as possible, you got one of those portable repair thingy’s?”

 

Andre cocked a brow, “You mean a ‘repairbox’?” Garret nodded, “Sure. I think I have some weapon and armor smithboxes on hand too. Normally I would charge you full price for all three, but I suppose I could bundle it all together and give you a nice deal”.

 

Garret’s eyes widened, “Really?”

 

Andre shrugged, “Sure. You all seem like decent folk, better than half the rabble that used to fill the land anyway”.

 

Garret pooled some souls in his hand, “How much?”

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar let out a sigh as Garret’s soul arrow felled the stone demon. He picked himself up from the floor and walked towards where the demon disappeared, picking up a large, smooth slab of titanite with indecipherable script on it. “What’s that for?” he directed the question towards the sorcerer.

 

Garret shrugged, “Special weapons made from the souls of powerful beings. And in all honesty, we probably won’t be using it…looks nice though. Maybe when all this is said and done you can put it on a pedestal and regale your children of how you and a ragtag group of misfits helped save the world”. All present chuckled at his words, and then began the short walk out of the room and into Darkroot forest.

 

“Ok then,” Garret folded his arms, “from here we have two paths. Both of which are necessary to complete”. He raised a finger, “Path one has us follow the straight path, fight a lot of plant creatures, stone warriors, and a giant butterfly that shoots sorcery from its face”. He raised another finger, “Path two has go off the beaten path down to the basin. We will then fight a black knight, crystal golems, and a hydra”. He spread his arms wide, “Pick your poison”.

 

The three thought for a moment, and after mulling over it, looked at each other, nodded, and declared, “Butterfly”.

 

Garret snorted, “Figures”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar stood in awe at the gargantuan door before him. He gulped, “So…beyond this door…lies the grave of Sir Artorias, one of Gwyn’s four knights?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yup. Of course, to get there, you have to get through an entire covenant devoted to keeping people away from the grave. People that can be very good at their job mind you, but I also know a shortcut. Course, we are not going to head over there for awhile now”.

 

Siegmeyer jerked his head to Garret, “We are actually going to visit the grave?”

 

Garret nodded, “Hmmhmm…Not,” he sighed, “not looking forward to it if I’m being honest”.

 

Solaire frowned, “Why not?”

 

Garret’s expression hardened, “…The less you know the better…Let’s get moving”.

 

Walking down a side path, they came upon a great wall of fog. Garret could hear three distinct gulps, “Don’t worry guys, boss isn’t right through this fog…I actually don’t know why this is here…Doesn’t really serve a purpose, no one aggros when you immediately enter…Anyway, there are three plant thingies to the left, let’s kill ‘em”.

 

One deforestation effort later, the four were ready to go through the fog. “All right listen,” Garret began, “Off to the left there is a tree. It’s alive”.

 

“Of course it is”.

 

“Hush Oscar. Now, after killing it, (which is fairly easy, as it won’t fight back) there will be a path, at the end of the path, and off to the side, lies Artorias’s wolf ring”.

 

Siegmeyer blinked, “What would such and artifact be doing away from his grave”.

 

Garret shrugged, “Grave robber, I don’t know, point is it’s on a corpse. Now, I already have all the rings I could want right now, Siegmeyer I know you’re stocked up, so Solaire, Oscar, you guys need to decide amongst yourselves who will get it”.

 

Solaire raised a hand, “And what will you be doing”.

 

Garret just smirked and stripped off his robes and helmet. Oscar groaned, “Not this again”.

 

“Yes this again. There’s some stuff I want to grab and it’s better if I just rush it alone. Don’t worry, I’ll catch up”. With that said, Garret moved through the fog, and immediately ran forward.

 

After taking care to stick to the left wall, the three knights came upon a giant tree. “So…think this is it?” Oscar asked the other two.

 

“On account of that,” Siegmeyer pointed to the tree’s roots, which were squirming, “I do believe it is”.

 

“Well,” Solaire rolled his shoulders, “Let’s make some firewood men”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar grunted as he was sent flying by a giant stone slab of a sword. He groaned and started to pick himself up, but then lurched forward as he felt a great weight fall upon him. Turning his head, he could see a ring of magic around him, the giant having just cast a spell. He moved his legs, but felt as though he were walking in syrup, “Dammit,” he then yelled, “Be careful you two! These things have a spell that slows down our movement!”

 

Just then, Solaire crashed into a tree beside him, a ring around his own body, “We noticed” he deadpanned.

 

At the sound of stone squishing mud, both (as quickly as they could) threw their shields up. The stone warrior slashed forward, and both knights were sent sliding backwards.

 

Oscar heard a roar, and craned his neck to see that Siegmeyer had finished his foe, and was now lumbering his way to the final knight.

 

He didn’t need to however, as a bolt of blue energy struck its back. It didn’t kill the thing, but the second strike to its face did the job.

 

Oscar gave a sigh of relief, “Garret, thank the gods-what are you wearing?”

 

Oscar’s eyes widened as he saw Garret in the exact same armor he was. With a jaunty step, Garret marched forward, “Hey Oscar look,” he gestured to himself, “Twinsies!” Siegmeyer laughed heartily.

 

Oscar could only blink, “That armor is hand crafted for knights in Astoran military…take it off”.

 

Garret paused, then fanned himself with his hand, “Oscar, there is a time and place”. Garret smirked; he could practically hear veins pulsing, “Daw, I’m just messing with you. This is actually too heavy my taste, I’ll probably just wear the gauntlets, keep my robes and boar helmet. You guys get the ring?”

 

Solaire shook his head, “No, not yet. Oh, and you can keep it Oscar”.

 

Oscar, who was still fuming at Garret, jerked his head in surprise, “Really?”

 

Solaire shrugged, “I’m sure there will be something else out there that suits my fancy”.

 

Garret clapped his hands, “Great, you get that, and I’ll go change. Meet you back at the bonfire”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret hid behind a wall, gazing intently at the forest clearing, “…I think we’re good…none of them saw us”.

 

Siegmeyer let out an airy laugh, “I should hope not. That one slow spell is certainly more trouble than it’s worth”.

 

Garret smirked, then walked over to a nearby shrub. He moved the plant with his hands, and exclaimed “aha!” Silence, “…I have no idea how summoning works”.

 

Solaire walked over, “It’s actually fairly simple, where is the sign?” Garret moved over, pointing to the shining letters, “Ah, well, you just bend over, and place your hand on it, like so,” Solaire bent down low and placed his hand on the sign. As it started to glow, he backed away, “So, how exactly is this,” he looked down at the glowing letters, “Beatrice supposed to help?”

 

By the time he finished asking, a young woman in old (but not necessarily ratty) robes, a large hat, wielding an old catalyst had appeared. She bowed as Garret began to speak, “Well, due to the fact that the Moonlight Butterfly is fond of flying around taking potshots at us, this marvelous young woman,” he draped an arm around her shoulder, causing her to stiffen up, “Is able to do more damage than any of us could ever hope to do, especially me”. He flashed her a smile, and in response she just tilted her head away from him, her hat concealing her face. “…So do you just not speak or…?”

 

Solaire spoke up, “Actually, people summoned by a soapstone are unable to speak directly to us. They can hear us just fine, but they can’t speak”.

 

Garret frowned, “Pity...Actually, now that I think about, it’s going to be crowded if we all head up there…Oscar, Siegmeyer, sorry but-”

 

Oscar cut him off, “Since we don’t have any reliable ranged attacks we wouldn’t be of much use, we get it, right Siegmeyer?”

 

“Quite,” the onion knight nodded, “Though I would prefer to be there, even if only to absorb blows, it would be to everyone’s detriment if no one could move”.

 

Garret grunted, “Glad you understand. Head back over to the bonfire by the door, actually, the one above Andre’s workshop would be better”. The two nodded and began to walk away,  “Oh wait, Oscar,” the knight turned around, “Could you leave your shield, this enemy does magic based attacks and yours is designed to defend against magic”. Oscar was silent for a few moments, then shrugged, handing his shield over, “Thanks, you can use mine for the time being, fair trade and all that”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“Woah…”

 

Garret smiled, wiping a tear from his eye, “I know, thing of beauty isn’t it?”

 

The “thing of beauty” he was referring to was the utter destruction Beatrice was laying on the butterfly. Spells that should have been reserved for dire moments were being thrown haphazardly and (luckily) with great accuracy. In truth, both men felt they were not needed.

 

Another blast of sorcery later, and Beatrice had successfully killed the butterfly. As it dissipated she dusted off her skirt and bowed slightly to the duo.

 

Garret walked up and clasped both her hands in his own, eliciting a bewildered expression from the woman, “That, was amazing. And to think, you didn’t even go to Vinheim”. Beatrice, who had titled her head down, looked up sharply, and sent Garret an inquisitive look, “I have the gift of sight and whatnot,” he noticed that her body began to fade away, “Oh, and you’re leaving,” he let go of her hands, then gasped, “Oh hey listen, whatever you do, stay away from New Londo. Seriously, do not go anywhere near there, it won’t end well for you”.

 

Her face scrunched up in confusion, but before he could elaborate, she vanished.

 

Solaire walked up to Garret. “What was that about New Londo?”

 

Garret shook his head, losing the smile on his face, “She tries to fight the local guardian, doesn’t end well. Hope she takes the advice”.

 

Solaire shrugged, pressing forward. When he ascended the decrepit tower, he was shocked to see a corpse that looked remarkably like Andre. As he got a closer look, he could see that it was holding something. After carefully moving its stiff arms, he held in his hands a sort of cube. It was hollow, and without a cover. There was a white flame inside, and it hurt a bit to look directly at it. After a few seconds, it dawned on him, _“This must be a blacksmith’s ember…Perhaps Andre will know what to do with it”_. He turned to tell Garret of his discovery, but paused as he saw the sorcerer frantically search the tower.

 

“Where is it, where is it. The damn key has to be here…”

 

“Garret,” Solaire called out, “Are you okay?”

 

Garret stopped his searching and looked over to Solaire. The knight was surprised to see a hint of panic in his eyes, “Oh yeah, everything’s great, everything’s fine,” he started to pace, “After all what could be wrong, there’s no key, why should there be a key, keys get lost, destroyed, rust away into a fine powder,” his voice became more hysteric, “But I know there is a key!  There needs to be a key! But no, there isn’t, and you know what that means, huh? Do you Solaire?” The knight slowly shook his head back and forth. At that, Garret burst into laughter, “It means the game is changing! My being here has finally begun to shift and turn that which should be set in stone! Oh sure, now it’s a key. But next thing you know, entire layouts will change! People will be where they shouldn’t be! Hollows will gain intelligence and drink tea! Cats and dogs will live together and have puppy-kittens! The world will spin on a vertical axis-!” Garret was sent crashing to the floor as Solaire punched him square on the jaw.

 

Solaire walked over to the dazed sorcerer, and bent down, “Better?”

 

Garret massaged his jaw, “Much. Thanks man, I needed that”.

 

Solaire smiled, “No problem,” he helped Garret up, “Is that key really important?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Kind of. There’s a door that leads to a tower where Havel the Rock was imprisoned. I’ll just jury-rig some firebombs together I guess”.

 

“Ah, so the good bishop is to join us on our quest?”

 

Garret shook his head, “No, the man’s gone insane from the isolation. Honestly, killing him will be a mercy”. Garret patted Solaire on the back, and exited the tower. After coming to terms over the fact that they would be putting down a legendary hero like a rabid dog, Solaire followed.

 

**A/N: Oooh, the first signs of trouble are beginning to appear. First it is a missing key, tomorrow, the world! MWAHAHAHA! But seriously, now is when things will begin to diverge greatly from the story. And I have a lot of ways to seriously mess with the story. It’ll be fun. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

Charisma: +1, Constitution: -2, Dexterity: -1

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

 

Solaire and Garret trudged their way back into Andre’s shop, meeting up with the rest of their group, “Hey guys,” Oscar and Siegmeyer waved, “Thanks for not using the bonfire, saved us some trouble”.

 

Siegmeyer replied, “No problem my friend. Was it a lucrative trip?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Eh, got some souls, got a special soul, suffered a nervous breakdown,” he then waved a hand when Siegmeyer voiced some concern, “Don’t worry, Solaire set helped me out of that funk. Speaking of, want to show Andre what we found?”

 

Solaire nodded, “Quite”. He walked over to Andre, who looked on with interest. His mouth parted in awe at the sight of the white ember.

 

“Why, why that’s” he rubbed his eyes, “That’s the ember of a divine blacksmith,” he reached for the ember, paused, the grabbed it at Solaire’s nod. He was silent as he moved it in his experienced hands, “Oh yes…I can make some divine weapons with this beauty”.

 

Garret smiled, “Great! That will be of great use later down the road, but right now we need to heal up, and then head down”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar shook his head as Garret picked at the titanite lizard, “That’s another supposedly ‘rare beast’ that we have come across…You know, back in my hometown, all the children would gather around the old bard as he described the time he **thought** he saw one of those things”. Garret just smirked, which then deepened as he picked off a piece of Twinkling Titanite. Oscar shook his head with a sigh.

 

Siegmeyer patted his back, “Chin up friend. Besides, when we finish our quest, odds are we will have enough Titanite to start our own trading business”.

 

Solaire chuckled, “Yes, with Garret as our ‘expert miner’”. The three laughing knights did not notice Garret’s smile turn into a frown.

 

 _“Yeah,”_ the sorcerer scoffed, _“Cause this will only end well for me”_. He shook his head; “C’mon” he said aloud, “there’s some stuff I need to get.

 

The group walked further down. Siegmeyer pointed to a light glowing on a ledge below them, “Is that it?”

 

Garret nodded, “You guys head down the normal way, “I’ll only be a second”. The three walked ahead as Garret prepped to jump. After bouncing on his heels for a few seconds, then hopped down. The impact jarred his body, but he was okay overall.

 

He picked up the Hunter’s Set (sans hat), as well as the longbow and feather arrows. He immediately got out of his shoes and robes, putting the leather boots and armor on. He stretched, satisfied with the snugness of the piece, and hopped down the ledge.

 

Upon meeting up with the knights again, Oscar had this to say, “I’ll admit, that looks good on you, but the ensemble is offset by the helmet”.

 

Garret shrugged, and then pointed down the cliff, “We’re going to get rid of the knight first. I’ll head down, get him angry, then lead him up here. Solaire,” he nodded, “you stay here to help me deal with him. Siegmeyer, head up the ledge I was just on, you’re going to drop down on him when you get the chance”.

 

“What about me?”

 

Garret tossed Oscar the longbow and new arrows, “Target practice,” he grinned. After that, everyone moved out, preparing for the confrontation.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret inched further down the basin, and stopped once he saw that the knight was directly below him. With a nervous breath, he leapt, swinging his sword down, a ferocious cry echoing across the basin. Too bad he missed.

 

Chuckling, Garret looked up at the knight, “Don’t suppose you’ll just let me do that again?” he then dove under the knight’s legs as its Halberd slammed into the ground.

 

Picking himself up, Garret ran upward, occasionally diving to avoid a particularly close swing. After Garret got back to even ground, the knight lunged forward, but was blocked by Solaire, who managed to sneak in a few blows. The knight roared in challenge, and swung its halberd in a wide arc, pushing Solaire back towards the wall. It started to stalk forward, but turned around and raised its shield as Garret swung his blade. It then hopped forward to avoid another blow from Solaire. It then jerked to the side as an arrow dug itself into its arm. It turned its head, and spotted Oscar some feet away, nocking another arrow. Catching the shine of a blade, it lifted its shield and held both Garret and Oscar at bay. A loud cry made it look up, and it visibly stiffened as Siegmeyer came crashing down, his blade slicing into its back. The dark knight shuddered, then roared as another arrow hit it, this time in the helmet. It turned towards Oscar, a stupid move all things considered, as it allowed the three behind it to strike hard and fast. It died soon after. Garret was saddened by the fact that it only left behind titanite, but quickly got over it.

 

“All right boys,” he clapped his hand, “There is a bonfire down where the knight was guarding, as well as an elevator that leads to the Valley of Drakes, and before anyone asks, I’m going alone. This is just an item run, I’m not going to try and kill anything, not yet at least”. The three all agreed, with varying degrees of reluctance.

 

As they went down, Garret noticed the Grass Crest shield he ignored in his panic. Picking it up, he turned to Siegmeyer, “Here you go,” he said, handing it over, “It blocks about as well as your shield, but also decreases the amount of time it takes to regain your stamina. Since you swing bigger weapons I figured, you know”.

 

Siegmeyer took the shield, “Thank you friend”. As he put it on his back, he noticed that, well, “…I’m glowing green”.

 

Garret shrugged, “Yeah, well, that’s how you know it working, lots of things glo-” he froze. He then sharply turned his head to Oscar and peered at the knight, who began to grow uncomfortable. “…Give me the ring”.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“The ring you picked up from the grave robber, Artorias’s ring,” confused, Oscar took the ring off, handing it to Garret.

 

Garret took his helmet of, scrutinizing the ring. After a few moments, he dropped it, eyes wide in shock, “It’s a fake”.

 

Oscar gasped, “Wait, what? How?”

 

Garret bent down, “It doesn’t feel magical at all. I could forgive the lack of a glow- _hell, I original chalked it up to not everything in game being perfectly replicated_ -but then the shield caused Siegmeyer to light up like a titanite lizard. And checking it over, I can confirm, this thing,” he held the ring close, “is an imitation”.

 

Solaire spoke up, “So, are you’re visions now becoming less accurate, due to your interference?”

 

Garret brought his fist to his chin, “Maybe, maybe not…too early to say,” he shook his head, “For now, let’s just ignore it”. He gave Oscar an apologetic glance, “Sorry buddy”.

 

Oscar sighed, “Its alright. I had a feeling it was too good to be true anyway”. The quartet then walked into the nearby cave, and rested at the bonfire.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret was once again naked (save for a loincloth) and descending deep into the earth. _“Okay, first I’m going to get that armor. I might never wear it, but my GOCD (Gaming Obsessive Collecting Disorder) is killing me._ ” Nodding his head, Garret dashed out of the elevator and ran straight for the bridge.

 

The nearby drakes perked their heads, then hissed as they saw Garret run into view. One of them heaved a great breath, and let loose a shrill cry as lighting flew from its maw. Garret rolled to the side to avoid getting stung, and dashed right past the attacking drake. He made it halfway to the bridge, and stopped to pick up the gear. He cried out in pain as a drake swooped in and raked him with its claws. Shuddering, he ran forward. One of the three drakes by the gates of New Londo raised its neck and bared its teeth, stalking forward. As Garret neared, it lunged forward, jaws prepped to take a bite. Imagine its surprise when Garret jumped on its head to get an extra boost, stumbling just short of the ladder.

 

After collecting the soul at the top of the tower, Garret frowned as he looked down at the three drakes hissing at him. _“I could jump, take the risk that I won’t die, and run back to the elevator…I could jump onto one of those things, mitigate the damage I would take…I could also use a homeward bone, save myself the trouble,”_ Garret chose took the third option.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret inched his way forward, scrunching his nose as rot and decay assaulted his nostrils. He looked at the sword and shield lying right next to the dragon corpses claws. With a whimper, he decided to go for it. He slowly crept forward, trying not to gag, and froze right in front of the gear. With a shuddering breath, he grabbed the items and immediately rolled away. He started to run, but stumbled in combination to the beast’s roar and thrashing. It turned its head and opened up its rotted jaw, spewing what Garret assumed to be what was left of its internal organs at him. He was unfortunate enough to get sprayed, but managed to get away before a claw smashed into him.

 

After calming himself down, he laughed, “HAHAHA! SUCK IT YOU LEG-LESS LIZARD!” With a jaunty step, he moved towards the bridge. About halfway through, he lurched forward, feeling terribly sick, “Ah shit, toxic,” he turned to look at the undead dragon, “SCREW-” he had to stop himself from falling over the ledge, “YOU! Oooh, I hope I have some blooming moss”. He did not. “Dammi-!” another wave of nausea, _“Okay, minor setback. I’ll just have to book it past the fattys and grab the key. Thank whoever designed those things that they like to roar every few seconds”_.

 

Taking a second to drink from his Estus, Garret charged forward. He sidestepped the first enemy, and the second, but the third one clued in faster than its brethren and swung its club at Garret. Garret, a little disoriented due to the toxin seeping through his entire body, was struck in the back. He was sent flying by the blow. He managed to drink a bit of Estus, to keep himself from keeling over, but could barely manage a hurried walk. He crossed the shoddy bridge and fell onto the chest. He heaved with all his might, opening just enough for him to grab the key it held. He grinned, even as a shadow enveloped his shaking form.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret opened his eyes, his mind in a haze. He groaned, “Garret,” he turned to see Siegmeyer leaning over him “are you all right?”

 

Garret slowly nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Just, after this, we are going to farm the heck out of purple moss,” he started to put his armor back on.

 

Oscar frowned, “Are you sure you want to move right now,” he noted that Garret was a little slow in putting on his boots, “You still seem out of it”.

 

Garret waved a hand, “I’m fine. Besides, I’d rather just get this over with.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret hid behind another tree as on of the Hydra’s heads shot forth a magic blast. It was not needed though, as the actual attack went far left of his direction. It was times like this Garret thanked whatever god would listen that his hunches were correct. As it turns out, the Hydra is unable to do proper attacks when it is forced to divide its attention between multiple foes. You’d think having more than one head would help in that regard, but from Garret could surmise, it was more of a singular entity than multiple brains processing different information.

 

“C’mon you foul creature!” Siegmeyer yelled, “I’m right here!”  He laughed as one of the heads tried to ram into him, only for another to smash into it as it tried to dodge a lightning bolt. Both heads crashed into the water, and he was able to cut one off.

 

Solaire grunted as he missed another shot, but was ultimately pleased, as it seemed to assist Siegmeyer’s endeavor.

 

Oscar, not for the first time since their adventure started, felt that he would have served the Astoran army just as well had he chosen to work as an archer. He mused that he was something of a natural, as he sent an arrow flying to an eye, where it stayed.

 

Five minutes of, well, calling it a fight would be overstating it, let’s call it a pummeling…yes, five straight minutes of pummeling later, and the Hydra was no more.

 

Garret and the others trudged through the water to meet up with Siegmeyer, who was staring at something in his hand. Upon questioning, he held up an ornate ring with a green gem, “This flew at me as the beast died, what is it Garret?”

 

Garret took the ring, “This thing belonged to the princess of a now dead kingdom, Princess Dusk of Oolacile”.

 

“Dusk?” Solaire snapped his fingers, “Was that not the young maiden saved by Knight Artorias before he died halting the Abyss?”

 

Garret chuckled, “Sure, let’s go with that. C’mon,” he pocketed the ring, we still have things to do”.

 

The group (sans Siegmeyer, who still wore the ring) plodded forward, moving past the waterfall, stopping in front of a small cave with a golden golem milling around.

 

“Solaire?” the knight grunted, “How many lightning miracles you have left?”

 

Solaire pursed his lips, “Two I suppose”.

 

Garret grinned pulled off his helmet, “Let ‘er rip”.

 

The golem staggered as two lightning blots pelted its chest. It tried to move, but a spiked mace struck the spot where the bolts hit. With a grunt of effort, Garret pulled the mace out, then slammed it atop the things head. It started to disappear in a flash of light. He then dropped the mace, and then let out a breath as he caught the body that fell from the air. He struggled, but ultimately fell on his ass, though the figure in his arms did not touch the water.

 

The person, a young woman, shook her head and rubbed her temples, clearing her mind of the haze of magical captivity. After that, she realized she was sitting on something rather firm. Looking down she saw that she was on someone’s lap. Looking up caused her to blush, as she now understood that she had fallen into the lap of a young man.

 

The young man smiled, “Hello there”.

 

The woman felt her heat flutter, and stammered back, “G-greetings. Thou must be my rescuer. I am Princess Dusk, of Oolacile”.

 

He chuckled, “And I am Garret, of, well, that’s not really important right now. Besides, I can’t take all the credit,” he jerked his head back, “they helped too”.

 

Princess Dusk shifted her gaze and saw three of knights, 2 of which were dressed in the oddest of armor. “If you don’t mind princess,” she turned to Garret once more, “This water is kind of cold”.

 

She blushed once more, deeper this time, and quickly stood up, “Of course!” After standing she cleared her throat, “Now, I do not have much time, for my place is-”

 

Garret interrupted her, “Far into the past, and you cannot stay here, for reasons I will never understand”.

 

Princess Dusk blinked, “Yes…How dids’t thou know that?”

 

He smiled, sending her heart racing once more, “I have the gift of foresight, and therefore know many things. I am also something of a sorcerer, and I know you have some spare spells”.

 

She nodded, “Yes, I would be willing to trade my spells in return for thine help. Thou need only ask”.

 

“Well consider yourself asked. Oh, yeah, there is this,” he pulled out a small ring, and she gasped when she saw it was hers, “We…found this just a little bit ago, thought you might want it”.

 

She gingerly took it in her hand, “This…I lost this ring shortly before my capture. But, why give it to me, surely thou must know it holds a powerful enchantment?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Yeah well, it’s your birthday gift. It doesn’t feel right to just keep it”.

 

Her blush had returned full force, “I, thank thee once again”.

 

Garret pouted, “Before you go, is there a way you know of that I can just summon you on the go. I mean, I know you’re going to set a sign down over by the shoreline, but there are going to be a lot of enemies that reappear whenever I’d want to see you again,” he then raised his hands in front of him, “Not that it wouldn’t be worth the trouble”.

 

Princess Dusk thought on the matter, which was a strenuous task, as she could feel the pull of time try and force her back. She looked at her ring, “Ah! This ring has a place in both my time and tine. It will serve a constant with which thou can call upon me if thou is in need of assistance, at the cost of thine vitality though,” she added, aware that that would be a dealbreaker.

 

“Cool, sign me up”.

 

She blinked owlishly at him, “Art thou sure? Every passing moment would brings’t thou closer and closer to agony”.

 

Garret shrugged, and another heart-melting smirk grew on his face, “I’m sure you’ll be worth it”.

 

Princess Dusk quickly shifted her gaze to the water beneath them, muttering a quick incantation. The ring glowed, and she handed it back to him. She started to float upward, “Farewell my rescuer!” she waved.

 

Garret waved back, “See you soon!” With a flash of light, she disappeared. Sighing, he turned back to his companions, who were staring at him in silence. “…What?”

 

Siegmeyer chortled, “Ah, to be young again”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“Oscar, I swear to whatever god is listening!”

 

Oscar spread his arms wide, “What? I’m just saying, maybe you should call your friend now, she certainly would like to see you again”.

 

Solaire decided to join in on the ribbing, “Yes, and I don’t think the feeling is exclusive”.

 

Garret blushed and tried to pull his boar helmet down to cover to rest of his face, then immediately regretted is as he started to gag.

 

“Come now you two,” Siegmeyer chided the knights; “Do no tease the young man so”. Garret gave his thanks, “He has enough on his plate, courting royalty and all,” the three laugher uproariously.

 

Garret scowled, “Screw you guys!” They then made it to the base of the tower where Havel was imprisoned, and the joyful mood died down.

 

“So,” Oscar let out a breath, “Bishop Havel the Rock is in there”.

 

Garret turned around, “Yes, and it’ll be a little tough, especially since he has some of the best armor you can find, and it absorbs most magical attacks. And don’t even get me started on that damn hammer”. Garret started to talk strategy, when Siegmeyer noticed a shadow coming from beneath the doorframe…it was getting larger.

 

“Gentlemen,” all three turned to him, “I believe the good Bishop is coming to us”.

 

Garret started to panic, “Wait what! That’s not a thing!” His hysteria heightened when the door began to creak open.

 

“Oh,” a soft, feminine voice said, “I thought I recognized that voice”. The four were dumbstruck (but none more than Garret) when the door opened fully to reveal Beatrice, the witch who helped them kill the Moonlight Butterfly. She fidgeted as awkward silence permeated the basin, “Um,” she took off her hat, revealing brown hair and hazel eyes, “won’t you come in?” She jumped as a thud echoed in the ravine. She leaned over to see that Garret had fainted.

 

Oscar let out a weak chuckle, “Well…that’s certainly the most…extreme reaction he’s ever had”.

 

**A/N: Dun, dun, dun! What is Beatrice doing there? How does that fit in with the timeline? Why even show up in the first place? All these answers will hopefully be answered in full come the next chapter (which may or may not be in like, three or four months, depends on when I can get myself a copy of DS3 and play it, along with any DLC [because there will be DLC] in its entirety). Also, Dusk has a crush on our young hero; let’s see where that road takes us. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

Not Hollowed Yet

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Garret had to admit, this was by far the weirdest dream he ever had. Really long too, and surprisingly detailed. He hummed in content as he basked in what he just now realized was a very active imagination.

 

“I think he’s coming too”.

 

Garret’s eyes snapped open, _“…Right, this is all real”_. He lifted himself up with a groan, smacking his lips. He idly noted that he was in the bonfire above Andre’s workshop (based on the sound of metal being hammered). Bleary eyed, he saw white rotund armor of Siegmeyer leaning over him, accompanied by Oscar, who was sitting at the bonfire, Solaire and Beatrice (who Garret was still weary of [that is to say, the fact that she was physically there]) next to him. He froze however, at the sight of an imposing figure in gray, rock-like armor leaning against a pillar, a large tooth and shield resting beside it.

 

Garret lifted a shaky hand towards the good bishop, a high-pitched whimper escaping from his lips.

 

Beatrice decided to take pity on him, “Don’t worry about Havel, he’s harmless”.

 

Garret turned his head so fast the knights and witch thought he broke his neck, “Harmless!”

 

Siegmeyer nodded jovially, “Quite! Though a bit quiet”.

 

Havel let out a low grunt, startling the still jumpy Garret. His spoke with a raw, almost unused voice, “No…people…lose…voice”.

 

Solaire nodded, “Yes, I suppose you did spend quite a long time alone in that tower friend”.

 

Beatrice rubbed the back of her neck, “Well, sort of”.

 

Garret leaned over to Oscar, “…If this is some sort of hostile illusion, squeeze my leg twice”.

 

Oscar sent the sorcerer a queer look, “…Did you hit your head when you fainted?”

 

Beatrice swiveled her head, “Did you? Are you hurt?” She moved closer to Garret “Can you fully move all your limbs and think at full capacity?”

 

Garret growled, “I’m fine, what I want to know,” he stood up, missing the pout Beatrice sent his way, “Is how you,” he pointed to Beatrice, “got here, and how come he,” he pointed to Havel, “Is not a raving lunatic”.

 

Beatrice and Havel shared a look. After a moment, the bishop shrugged, waving his hand. Beatrice cleared her throat, “Well, it started when I went back to my era after you summoned me”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Beatrice slowly blinked open her eyes as the suns rays filtered down from over head, _“Oh, its too dark in the future”._ Shaking her head clear, she looked down at the soapstone hanging from her belt. Even now, she thought it was a fascinating tool, able to bend time and space to allow people to communicate decades, even centuries apart. She then frowned, thinking on the last person she saw before returning to her time. _“‘The gift of sight’ huh?...Ordinarily I would call that complete and utter garbage…and yet”_ Beatrice had to admit, the fact that he knew she never studied at Vinheim, and his ominous warning against going to New Londo (where she wished to study the effects of the Abyss), struck a cord in her. Debating silently with herself, she decided that he bore further investigation. A gift such as his needed to be properly studied, _“Plus he’s cute”_. Beatrice reddened at that stray (though not dishonest) thought, and stalked up the tower.

 

As she neared the top, she slowed down to a near-crawl, and carefully stuck her head out the archway. Gazing down the bridge to the other tower, she saw the giant crystal cocoon that housed the moonlight butterfly she would help Garret kill years from now. Walking forward, Beatrice noted that if not for her impatience (and fear of losing her mind as the years passed) she would not have purchased a soapstone so that someone from a future time would summon her and she could study the creature’s life cycle. _“Another 50 years and that thing will break free, lay an egg that will hatch in another 20 odd years, then die by either time’s passing, or someone’s blade…or spell”_. Still though, no point in rushing forward with reckless abandon and agitating the beast.

 

Entering the tower, she saw what she was looking for, a single key on a ring, _“There we are”_. She smirked, and turned around, careful of the crystal cocoon.

 

**Line Break**

 

Beatrice stumbled as someone bumped into her, “Sorry miss, but I’m off to save our fair land!” She let out a silent growl as yet another hopeful fool rushed off to the church.

 

Her mood then grew somber as she thought of how now there were less and less people rushing off to fix the problem of undeath, and more and more hollows looking to devour souls. She brought her hand to her breast, and felt for the spot where one’s mark would spread once the madness took hold. _“How long until we’re all stark raving mad?”_ She shook her head clear of those thoughts, she had a future to reach.

 

Opening the door to the tower, then quickly shutting it behind her, Beatrice let out a pleased hum. Spacious, isolated, out of the way, yes, this would do nicely. Walking down the steps with a merry hum, she froze at the sight of a large man in grey, stony armor leaning on a wall opposite the steps.

 

Beatrice started to panic, _“Oh no! How can my luck be this bad! The one tower I pick happens to house the insane Bishop”._ She then slowly started to climb back up the stairs, but misjudged a step, and slid down landing in a heap in front of the silent knight. She gulped, _“Please let this be quick”_.

 

“Unless you’re looking for a fight, I suggest you leave now”.

 

Beatrice blinked at Havel’s gruff, not insane voice. She slowly stood up, “I-I thought you were-”

 

“Insane?” she nodded. “Well,” Havel let out a grim chuckle, “not yet. Soon though, soon I shall be nothing more than a mad hollow”.

 

Beatrice stared blankly, then sighed, “Look, I can give you the key, you can leave now, go back to Anor Londo,” when he lifted his helm towards her, she gestured frantically, “This is not a trick I swear!”

 

The knight was silent. Just as Beatrice feared he had actually lost his sanity, he let out a morose sigh, “If only it were that simple. Alas, I have been stripped of my rank, my life; even my own power has been forcibly diminished. ‘Lord’”, Beatrice was shocked at the venom in his voice, “Gwyn issued an order to kill me on sight if I ever managed to escape…I have nothing to return to”.

 

“But, surely you can find something to fight for”.

 

Havel clenched his fists; “The only thing that’s kept me sane so far is my hatred for the pale snake!” He started to shake, and Beatrice was prepared to flee. However, just as suddenly as his anger came, it dissipated, “But not even that is enough to sustain me”. He looked up at Beatrice once more, “Leave now woman, let me wither away in peace”.

 

Beatrice frowned at the knight’s resigned tone. She pursed her lip; she could not just allow one of Anor Londo’s most famous knights to wallow into nothing at the bottom of a tower. She looked down at her soapstone. “…What if I give you something to do?”

 

“What?”

 

Beatrice moved closer to the knight, “There is someone I wish to meet, however,” she held up the soapstone, “He will not be here for another 823 years”.

 

Havel held up a hand at that, “Hold on, how could you-”

 

“The life cycle of the Moonlight Butterfly”, Beatrice answered.

 

Havel resisted the urge to growl at the mention of one of Seath’s creations, “…Go on”.

 

Beatrice nodded, “Obviously, as a human, I cannot mill around for that long and stay sane at the same time. You however, are not human, you can naturally live longer then any human could ever dream (even with this curse going around). All I ask, is that when the time comes, you wake me up”.

 

“I’m sorry, wake you up?”

 

A nod, “I’m going to use my soapstone in tandem with a my sorcery to make myself a cocoon of sorts. It will keep my in a stasis, so the curse does not go rampant in me. The soapstone will count down until the day that you will break me free”.

 

Havel brought a hand to his faceplate, “…I suppose it would give me something to do…better than focusing on my hatred for sure…Still though, I don’t think you want to rely on a man on his way to madness”.

 

Beatrice smiled, “If I cannot trust one of this land’s greatest heroes, who can I trust”.

 

Havel was silent. “…When will you put yourself to sleep”.

 

Beatrice beamed brightly, “Give me an hour”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“And about 823 years later, here we are”. Only the crackle of the bonfire broke to silence that had fallen over the group. Even Andre stopped his work to listen to the tale.

 

Siegmeyer was the first to break the silence, “So you just waited for centuries?”

 

Havel shrugged, “Sometimes…people…thieves…came…easy…kill”.

 

Garret raised his hand, “Question. What would you have done if Havel hadn’t been there, how would you have gotten out?”

 

Beatrice blushed a bit, “Well, I would have had to pour more magic into the spell; so much that I, uh, would have reverted to a younger age”.

 

Oscar quirked a brow, “How does that work?”

 

“Obviously its due to the fact that ones own soul is what powers a sorcery. The amount of magical force she would have had to exert would drastically weaken her soul, far too weak for an adult body. As such, her body would be forced to downsize into that of a child in order to accommodate for the smaller soul”. Garret answered sagely, eyes closed and nose upturned. When Beatrice didn’t contradict him, he looked at her in surprise, “Wait, I was right?”

 

She shrugged, “More or less”. Garret straightened, obviously pleased with himself.

 

“Beatrice,” the five (six counting Andre) turned their heads towards Havel, “…you…okay?” She nodded, “Good…I…leave”. Havel started to pack up his gear.

 

Siegmeyer stood up, “Woah there friend! Surely you do not have to leave?”

 

Havel shook his head, “Must go…no…reason…to continue…go mad…soon”.

 

Garret jumped up, “What if I give you a reason to not go crazy?”

 

Havel slowly turned his head, “…No…more…cocoons”.

 

Garret waved his hands back and forth, “No, I mean, I can take you to kill Seath”.

 

Five people drew quick breaths, while Havel froze. Solaire cleared his throat, “Garret, Seath is-”

 

“Killable,” Garret walked closer to Havel, “100% killable. Granted, it’ll take some time, a bit of maneuvering, and he does own me a weapon, but you can cave the bastard’s skull in yourself”.

 

Havel growled, “No…trick?”

 

Garret shook his head, “You’ll get to see the life fade from his non-existent eyes”.

 

Havel hummed in thought. After a moment of deliberation he held out his hand, “Deal”.

 

Garret smiled, shaking the man’s hand “Welcome to the party!” He looked over his head, “Needless to say Beatrice, you’re free to come with”.

 

Andre, surprisingly, was the first to break the incredulous silence, “Hey, so long as you come in for repairs, doesn’t matter who you travel with”.

 

Siegmeyer let out a hearty laugh, “Traveling with Bishop Havel! HAHA! Garret you never cease to amaze!”

 

Oscar let out a breathy laugh, “Never a dull moment that’s for sure”.

 

Solaire nodded, “Indeed, though it is all in the name of jolly-cooperation”.

 

Beatrice nodded rapidly, a bright smile on her face. “This’ll be fun. Oh wait, Garret, can you answer some questions for me?”

 

Garret quirked a brow, “…Sure” he blinked as Beatrice was suddenly right beside him, a notebook and pen in hand.

 

“How does your gift work? How far into the future can you see? Are you seeing anyone? Is the future set in stone or is it malleable?” Garret felt his head spin as her rapid-fire questions.

 

Neither of them noticed Havel shake his head in a mix of amusement and annoyance, “Children”.

 

**A/N: Hello all, just a quick little update to ensure the good people of FanFiction.net that I’m still working on this story. But good god if Dark Souls 3 isn’t packed with lore. Like holy crap, so much lore. Thankfully, since my story isn’t that long or meaty, any tweaks that need to be made can be done and they won’t change the story too much. More good news, none of the lore in DS3 really applies until the group reaches Anor Londo, so I should be able to update more or less regularly. Bad news, DLC aren’t coming in until fall and I have no idea if that’s going to screw me over, the game itself already derailed half of my plot. Anyway, be sure to leave a review. Later.**

 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

Witch Fight

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

After answering the majority of Beatrice’s questions (while taking care to avoid saying anything that she and the others shouldn’t worry themselves about) Garret decided to invite one more soul to the party. Pulling out Dusk’s ring, Beatrice eyed the item with a curious gleam, “What’s that?”

 

Garret answered, “The ring of Princess Dusk of Oolacile,” Havel perked up at that, “Ordinarily, it would greatly increase the power of my spells, at the cost of my health. But, the dear princess herself changed it so that I can summon her whenever I want, at the cost of my health of course”.

 

Beatrice frowned at the knowledge, “Isn’t she, uh, dead?”

 

Garret snorted, “Time is all kinds of messed up”.

 

Havel raised up a hand, “Wait…when?”

 

Garret was about to answer, but cut himself short, “…When did you get locked in that tower? Ah, better question, when you were…reassigned, how were Gwyn’s four knights?”

 

Havel tilted his head at that, “…Gough…scout…Kalameet…Ornstein…train…Smough…Artorias…Ciarin…raise Sif”.

 

Garret nodded, “She’s from a bit after that”. He would have left it at that, yet there was one question that still weighed on his mind, “And what of Gwyn’s children?”

 

Havel was silent, much longer than Garret thought necessary, “…Gwynevere…marry…Flann”.

 

Garret cocked a brow, “That’s all?”

 

A low rumble emanated from the Bishop’s throat, causing Solaire, who was next to the bishop, to step away, “…Yes…”

 

Garret smirked, putting the ring on, “We’ll talk later”. Concentrating on the enchantment placed on the ring, Garret began to feel his life slip away as a figure emerged from a yellow light beside him.

 

The figure solidified into the form of Dusk, who bent low, regally, to Garret. With a warm smile, Garret reciprocated, “Hello again Princess”.

 

Dusk smiled warmly, “Hello again, my rescuer”.

 

“Well,” Andre began wiping soot off of his body, “If I had known I were entertaining royalty, I’d have spruced the place up a bit”.

 

Dusk’s gaze tore away from Garret, to address the giant of a man, “It is quite all right,” she said warmly. “From what little I information I have been able to gleam of the future, I know you have far greater things to worry about than being tidy”. Andre chuckled, a hint of rose coloring his cheeks

 

Oscar waved a hand, “We’re here too, thought I should mention”.

 

She smiled to Oscar, Siegmeyer, and Solaire “I could not forget you three as well”. However, upon seeing Havel standing next to Solaire, her eyes widened considerably.

 

Garret tapped her on the shoulder, “The rumors of his insanity are greatly exaggerated”.

 

Dusk nodded her head slightly, “Well, in any case, it is good to see one of our land’s greater heroes,” Havel bowed slighlty.

 

Then she her eyes fell upon Beatrice. She blinked at the witch, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly “And thou art?”

 

Beatrice’s lips curled into a false smile, “I am Beatrice, a…friend of Garrets”. Beatrice sent a sly look to Garret, while Dusk’s narrow gaze was starting to turn into a glare.

 

Garret however, was too busy fiddling with his Estus to notice their hostility. “Uh-uh,” he said absentmindedly, “Didn’t really expect her, or Havel, to show up, but hey, the more the merrier!” A glow surrounded his body, and he quickly drank his Estus, making it disappear.

 

Andre raised a brow, “What was that about?”

 

Garret cleared his throat, “Oh nothing. Its’ just that, since technically Princess Dusk does not belong in this time, I have to use my own life force to bring and keep her here”.

 

Beatrice frowned, “Really. That sounds dangerous”.

 

Garret shrugged his shoulders taking another drink, “Eh, give and take. Besides,” Garret turned to Dusk with a wry grin, “I highly doubt you’ll meet people of our level of crazy stuck in Oolacile”.

 

Dusk giggled into her hand, “No, I suspect not”. Beatrice felt her eye begin to twitch.

 

Garret took another swig of Estus, “Man, going through this faster than I thought”.

 

Andre cleared his throat, “If you want, I’ve got a few more”.

 

All present turned to the smith, “You do?” Garret asked.

 

Andre nodded his head, “Oh sure. Every now and then I need to do a supply run, find a few flasks lying around here and there, bring ‘em back with me”.

 

Garret rubbed his chin, “How many do you have?” Andre reached behind a chest, and pulled out a large sack, which clinked when he set it on the floor. Garret’s eyes shone with glee, “…How many are you willing to part with?”

 

While Garret began to barter with Andre, Dusk turned her attention to Beatrice. “So…are you a sorceress as well?”

 

Beatrice straightened, and crossed her arms, “Yes…self-taught”.

 

Dusk’s eyes roamed Beatrice’s clothes, “Yes, that much is obvious”.

 

Beatrice set her jaw, “Well, better than staying in some cushy school where they don’t even bother to teach you to defend yourself, only run and hide”.

 

Dusk’s face set into a frown, “The sorceries of Oolacile require a certain way of thinking to wield properly. It is much more complex than simply blasting your magic through,” she eyed the catalyst strapped at Beatrice’s hip, “whatever that is”.

 

Beatrice scoffed, “At least mine looks like it will last more than once use,” she pointed to Dusk’s own catalyst, “What, is that hobbled together from a bunch of twigs?”

 

As their little spat was beginning to heat up, Oscar leaned over to his friends, “Should, should we do something”.

 

Solaire nodded his head slowly, “Yes, I uh, I think we should”.

 

Siegmeyer slowly turned his head towards the pair; “…You two don’t really have much experience with women, do you?”

 

The two knights’ sent inquisitive looks to the onion knight, “What do you mean?” Solaire asked.

 

Havel snorted, “Enter…at…own…peril”.

 

The two Astorans looked back at Dusk and Beatrice, who were now clutching their respective catalysts, glaring daggers at one another, magical energy hovering between them.

 

Oscar turned to Solaire, “…I’m sure they can work out their differences on their own”.

 

 

Solaire quickly nodded his head, “Agreed”. Siegmeyer and Havel chuckled.

 

Thankfully, before either woman had a chance to escalate the potential conflict, the clinking of glass was heard beside Garret and Andre. Everyone turned to see Andre deposit a number of Estus Flasks into Garret’s satchel, while Garret had a sizable pool of souls in his hand. As Andre collected the souls, Garret sent him a grand smile, “Andre, you have made this journey _sooo_ much easier”.

 

Andre smirked, “Oh, don’t think too much of it,” and returned to his work.

 

With a spring in his step, Garret walked back the Dusk and Beatrice (who had put away their catalysts and plastered smiles on their faces). Turning to Dusk, Garret frowned slightly, “I was gonna ask if you had a spare ivory catalyst, but I just spent most of my souls on healing items so…” he blinked as Dusk held up a catalyst, “Ummm, for me?” Dusk nodded. Garret scratched the back of his head, “But I can’t pay you”.

 

Dusk shook her head, and delicately placed a hand on his shoulder, “Oh, my dear Garret, you saved my life. I could never ask you for payment when you have need of me”.

 

Garret hummed in thought, grabbing the catalyst from Dusk, “Oh, well, that’s nice of you” he said with a smile. As Garret stepped back and waved the catalyst around, to get a feel for it, Dusk sent a mischievous smile to Beatrice, who grit her teeth at the princess. “By the way,” Dusk turned back, “Don’t suppose you have any scrolls that you’re willing to part with.

 

Dusk almost nodded, but stopped herself. She dipped her head down, as if in thought, then looked back at Garret with a thoughtful expression, “Yes, I can teach you the sorceries of my home, however there may be a problem”.

 

Garret frowned, “Am I too stupid, cause I can cram souls into my brain if it helps”.

 

Dusk waved her arm, “Oh no, nothing like that, it is just that, well, in order to cast the sorceries of Oolacile, one needs a certain mindset. It is less…exact than what you would learn in Vinheim. I could very well teach it to you, however,” she cast her eyes downward, “It would require personal instruction”.

 

While Garret brought a hand to his chin in thought, Beatrice was fuming. Then, the self-taught witch had an idea of her own, “Could I learn it as well?” Beatrice smiled at Dusk’s scowl; “I never went to Vinheim, so perhaps it would be easier for me”.

 

Before Dusk could say anything, Garret nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, after all, three heads are better than two”.

 

Dusk sent a small pout towards Garret, “But I am not sure I can teach to people at once, it would be better if I focus on-”

 

Garret cut her off with a wave of his hand, “Oh, I’m sure you’re a good enough teacher to handle two students”.

 

Dusk half-smiled at the compliment, “…I suppose…”

 

“Great,” he walked over to Dusk and Beatrice, clapping them both on their shoulders, “Can’t wait for the first lesson”. Dusk’s mouth twitched downward while Beatrice simply smiled, glad that her plan was successful.

Garret finished off another Estus flask, “Uh, Dusk, not for nothing but, I’m gonna need to send you back, we do have things to do”.

 

Dusk smiled sadly, “Of course, I could not, in good conscience, keep you from your quest”. Then, in what could either be a spur of the moment or a calculated play, Dusk leaned forward ever so slightly, and gave Garret a quick peck on the cheek. “For luck,” she said, as she drew back.

 

On his part, Garret flushed greatly, and turned his gaze away from the princess with an airy chuckle, “Uh, thank you, for that, ooh boy,” he removed her ring, “Good-bye,” he said with a wave.

 

Dusk waved in return, and turned around to wave good-bye to the rest of his party as well. When she turned to Beatrice however, Dusk simply smiled smugly, before vanishing in a golden light.

 

To her credit, Beatrice kept herself from trying to blast the woman with a soul arrow. _“You win this round you smug bitch”_.

 

Siegmeyer noticed the irate look on Beatrice’s face, and chuckled quietly to himself, “Ah, to be young again”.

 

“You say something?”

Siegmeyer shook his head, “Nothing Garret”.

 

**A/N: Hey so, this fic is still being worked on, to alleviate any worries anyone had (I know one reviewer asked if this was abandoned). I know this is a little short, but I couldn’t justify moving on the next part of the story in this chapter, so I’ll do my best to make the next one longer than usual.**

**I hope the Dusk/Beatrice dynamic was at least halfway decent. I can fully admit to never being in a situation like the one described above (fantasy world notwithstanding). Fun fact, before DS3 revealed a couple of things about Dusk, I originally planned on having her be a little naïve and Beatrice being too kind to try and take advantage of her in order to get in good with Garret. But apparently Dusk is the type of person to run away from home and invent a complicated spell just to fuck around in the forest, so I went with a classic ‘Betty and Veronica’ angle. Let me know if I’m on the right track. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**

 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

Off-Script

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

Havel grunted as he blocked a Balder knight’s blow, then swung his own weapon in retaliation. To his displeasure, the knight backed away from his Dragon Tooth hammer.

 

Garret spoke up behind him, “Need any help?”

 

Havel merely shoved his shield forward, knocking the knight off balance, then swung his mighty weapon forward, slamming it into the knight, which then slammed into a wall, crumpling as souls were distributed to Havel and his companions. Havel turned to Garret, hefting his hammer smugly.

 

Garret clicked his tongue, “Show-off”. He moved forward, patting the bodies of Havel’s fallen foes down for any loose items. He smiled when he found some Titanite shards and a helmet (slighlty battered, but still better than a stinky boar head). His smile faded when his last search found a loose pair of Balder leggings.

 

He leaned against a pillar, debating. On the one hand, the armor was decent, not too heavy, and would last until at least Sen’s Fortress. But on the other hand, he didn’t fancy the thought of wearing only a speedo and glorified shin guards. He didn’t think his friends would like it either.

 

Beatrice walked up to him, “What are you in such deep thought about?”

 

Garret’s thoughts on the leggings blended with a mental image of Beatrice, and he quickly shook his head clear of those thoughts, hoping he hadn’t blushed.

 

He did, “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing!” He cleared his throat, “Nothing, nothing at all”.

 

She frowned, “Really?”

 

Garret nodded, stuffing the items deep in his satchel, “Really, I’m fine”.

 

Beatrice wanted to press the matter, but was interrupted by Siegmeyer, “Uh, Garret, are there any living gargoyles left in the chapel?”

 

Garret gulped, “No, only the two…why do you ask?”

 

“Oh, it’s just, well, the elevator is blocked by that special fog”. Siegmeyer pointed towards the elevators, and to Garret’s horror, fog walls blocked them.

 

Garret sucked in a breath and cursed. He started tapping his foot, “Solaire! Oscar!” the two knights looked down from the second floor, “Come here, now!”

 

At Garret’s anxious tone, both knight’s hurried down the stairs, while Garret looked out towards Sen’s fortress. Solaire made it down first, “What’s the matter?”

 

“We’re being invaded”.

 

Everyone was immediately on alert, “What!” Oscar shakily held his blade out, a frantic tone in his voice, “Darkwraiths? Here?”

 

Havel growled, slamming his shield on the ground “Scum!”

 

Solaire eyed the hall, jerking his head back and forth “Where is he coming from?”

 

Beatrice tightly gripped her catalyst, “I’ve seen the results of one of their invasions, I don’t want to have to fight one”.

 

Siegmeyer rolled his shoulders, “Fret not friends. If the worst comes to pass, I shall stay behind and give you all a chance to flee”.

 

“Everyone calm the hell down!” All five turned to Garret, who had a small frown on his face.

 

Beatrice scoffed, “Calm down! We’re about to fight a Dakwr-”

 

“I never said it was a Darkwraith, all I said was that we are being invaded,” he looked outside once more, then up to the second floor “and it is taking them a long time to get here”.

 

“Well who could it be,” Oscar asked, “if not a Darkwraith?”

 

“Have any of you sinned recently? If so then we might have a Blade of the Darkmoon on our asses. It could also just be some schmuck who got his hands on a red eye orb”.

 

Solaire titled his head at Garret, “So, not a Darkwraith?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Garret brought a hand to his chin, “Either way…I want to lay a trap”.

 

“Pardon?”

 

Garret turned to the bewildered group, “I have a couple of questions as to how invasions actually work, and if it is a Darkwraith then there are even more questions that will need answering”.

 

Havel grunted, “What?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Where they’re based and other similar queries”. He eyed his companions, “If anyone doesn’t want to help raise your hand”.

 

Beatrice slowly raised her hand, “I don’t even have a dagger”.

 

Garret did a double take, “Really? Huh, well, after this we need to find you a proper weapon. Anyone else wanna sit this one out?” Silence, “Good, here’s my plan”.

 

**Line Break**

 

A red figure emerged from a pool of blood red light, covered head to toe in skeletal armor. He examined his surroundings; pleased that he appeared near the ground floor of the chapel, less chance for his victim to prepare. Slowly, warily, he stalked into the parish. Entering the building, he heard armor clanking from up above. he smiled underneath his grim helmet; his victim was in for an unpleasant surprise.

 

The Darkwraith rapidly headed for the stairs. So rapidly, that he almost didn’t hear footfalls dashing up behind him. Almost.

 

Quick as a flash, the Darkwraith turned around, an etheral blood-red shield forming from his left hand, blocking the sword of, what looked like, a sorcerer. As the (maybe) sorcerer scowled and backpedaled away, the Darkwraith frowned. Two people to kill: tricky, but doable. Obviously the possible sorcerer was top priority, any spells would make killing his partner (a knight if the sound of armor was any indication) that much harder. Speaking of.

 

A knight wearing the (in)famous Catarinan armor slashed down, forcing the Darkwraith to roll away, towards the open floor. The Darkwraith eyed his two opponents, the sorcerer now confirmed as one since it brought out a catalyst.

 

Before he could attack the sorcerer, a crackle of lighting sent the Darkwraith into a panic. Rolling forward, turning as he landed, the invader scowled as a third figure emerged from the altar. Three foes now. An arrow flew into the Darkwraith’s shoulder blade. Make that four.

 

The odds were now piling up against him. Using his freehand, the Darkwraith grabbed hold of a black crystal. A tactical retreat seemed like the best option.

 

Suddenly, a massive thud sounded from behind him. Slowly, fearfully, the Darkwraith turned around. At the sight of an imposing figure in stone-like armor wielding a giant tooth, he dropped his sword and crystal. Then the imposing knight lifted its hammer, and all was black.

 

**Line Break**

The Darkwraith slowly regained consciousness. It had been a long time since an enemy hit him so hard that he was knocked out after teleporting away.

 

“I do believe it’s waking up”. An unfamiliar voice cut through the haze of unconsciousness, and the Darkwraith opened his eyes to see the five men he had lost to (accompanied by a what looked like a witch), although, they were all upside down. The Darkwraith tilted his head back, and panicked when he finally registered that it was hanging over the edge of the parish from a rope. The Darkwraith started to struggle.

 

“Careful, you might break the rope, and trust me, you do not want to fall to your eventual death”. The Darkwraith stopped squirming to look for whoever had spoken, most likely the leader of this group. He blinked in surprise when it was not the Catarinan, nor the stone knight, but the male sorcerer, an insufferable smirk on his face. “We just want to ask you some questions”.

 

The Darkwraith glared (though that was mitigated somewhat by the face covering mask it wore) and sharply turned his head away.

 

The sorcerer sighed, “Fine, guess we’ll be here awhile”. He looked at his nails, “Rather, until your brain explodes” he added nonchalantly.

 

Six heads swiveled in his direction. A bemused smile crept on his face, “Oh! None of you knew this? Yeah, see, when you hang upside down, eventually all the blood in your body will start to pool in your head. Now, that alone isn’t terrible, I mean, sure, your body might feel a bit tingly, but the worst part comes when it really collects in your noggin”. He bent down to look the Darkwraith in the eye, “See, the brain can only hold so much blood. You know how sometimes people will spontaneously die from seemingly out of nowhere, before immediately coming back at any rate?” Despite himself, the Darkwraith nodded, “Well, that’s because the brain, for lack of a better term, leaks. And let me tell you, it is excruciating”. He rapped his knuckles against the Darkwraith’s helmet, “Holes just start bursting in that skull of yours, splitting pain just every second until finally, your body just gives up, and you become a blithering, twitchy mass, and the curse takes full effect”. A frightening smile took form, “Does that sound fun to you?” The Darkwraith rapidly shook its head.

 

The sorcerer chuckled, “Pull him up boys”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Havel growled at the Darkwraith as he and Oscar finished tying it to a pillar. They backed up to make room for Garret. “So,” the seer began, “Can you speak?” The Darkwraith shook his head.

 

Garret clicked his tongue, “Of course not, why make things easy”. He ran a hand through his hair. “Ok, just nod and shake your head accordingly…Are you a man?”

 

Havel groaned, “What?”

 

“Well I don’t want to be a jerk and keep on saying call him or her ‘it’ now do I Havel?”

 

He shook his head, then stiffened in horror, turning to Havel. Garret groaned in annoyance, “Yes, that’s the ‘mad bishop’”. He started to mutter under his breath, “…Couldn’t be known as the ‘reasonable’ or ‘sane’ bishop, no…”

 

Siegmeyer cleared his throat, “Uh, sir, right?” The Darkwraith nodded, “You are a Darkwraith, correct?” Another nod, slower than the last.

 

Garret folded his arms, “A current member, not some rouge?” A nod.

 

Garret decided to truly begin the questioning.

 

“Did you invade from the surrounding area?” A shake of the head.

 

“Did you invade from some sort of home base?” A nod.

 

“Is this home base with other Darkwraith? Your headquarters?” Two nod.

 

“Have you been a Darkwraith for a long time, say, a millennia?” A shake.

 

“…Did you join after New Londo flooded?” A nod.

 

“Did you stumble on…the leader by accident”. A shake.

 

Havel growled, “Who…leader?”

 

Solaire coughed in his hand, “That isn’t really a yes or no question”.

 

Garret turned to Havel, “Besides, have you forgotten, I, by virtue of being a seer, already know that general details, I just want specifics”.

 

Havel leaned forward, “You know…leader…location?”

 

Garret waved him off, “Not now Havel, we have bigger fish to fry”. The bishop relented. Garret turned back to the Darkwraith. “Do you guys have only the one base?” The Darkwraith was still. “…Do I need to hang you upside down again? Havel, grab his legs”. The Darkwraith quickly nodded his head.

 

“So, you all have to travel from your main base to different locations?” A nod. Garret pursed his lips, “And, you all travel alone?” A nod. Garret tapped his cheek in thought.

 

“Can’t really ask how they travel,” he muttered, “too complicated a question” Garret shrugged “That’s it for me. Anyone else have any burning questions?” Five heads shook.

 

Nodding Garret leaned down to face the Darkwraith once more. “Now, I’m going to kill you, and when you reform at your headquarters and your boss asks why you failed, do us a favor, and keep you mouth shut about this,” Garret gestured to him and his friends, “Just say some sorcerer got lucky, and really, I have. Cause if you breath a word about us, to anyone, I will find out,” his eyes started to glow red, and his voice gained a dark edge “and I will hunt you down, and give you an intimate understanding of the word ‘pain’”. The Darkwraith swallowed visibly, while Oscar and company exchanged puzzled, and worried looks. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, Garret’s eyes lost their glow, and his voice regained its chipper tone, “Great”. He stood up, and readied his Drake sword, “By the way, I’m keeping your sword”. Garret stabbed forward, his blade easily sliding into the Darkwraith’s chest. The Darkwraith (were it able to speak) would have gurgled for a few seconds, before going limp, and dissipating into red specks of light.

 

Garret rolled his shoulders, a bit stiff. He noticed Beatrice’s worried face, “What’s up?”

 

She opened her mouth, then paused. “…Nothing Garret, just, shocked we managed to live through an encounter with a Darkwraith”.

 

Garrets smiled coolly, “Yeah well, just wait till we get to the sewers”. He moved past them, giving Beatrice a reassuring pat on the shoulders as he walked to the elevator.

 

Beatrice turned to the three knights and bishop, “Does anyone know what _that_ was?” She whispered frantically.

 

Siegmeyer, Solaire, and Oscar all tried to find a plausible explanation. Havel sighed, “I think…I have…idea”.

 

Oscar turned to the Bishop, “You do?”

 

Havel shook his head, “Too early…to say…probably wrong…anyway”. No one quite believed that.

 

“Hey!” Garret yelled, “What are you guys waiting for, we got a kingdom to save!” The four men and one woman exchanged glances once more, and then walked over to Garret.

 

**A/N: PLOT! INTRIGUE! THEMATIC ELEMENTS!...Anyway, be sure to leave a review. Later**

 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

Jaw Dropping Fun!

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Garret strummed his fingers along his arm, leaning back against the dilapidated wall leading down to Ana. He sighed, tilting his head skyward. The Crestfallen knight craned his head, “What’s gotten you down?” He sent Garret a mirthless smirk, “Finally realized the futility of your little venture?”

 

Garret closed his eyes, “…No, just thinking is all”.

 

The knights grunted, “Well, don’t suppose you could do all that else where?”

 

Garret opened one eye, sparing the knight a glance, “Why? What’s the big deal?”

 

The knight let out a soft groan, “It’s all these people,” he twitched when Siegmeyer’s boisterous laughter sounded from down the stairs, “Place used to be nice and quiet. Sure, there was the occasional fool or two that flew down, but afterwards they all lost hope and disappeared,” he sent Garret a droopy glare, “But you and your lot keep coming back, each time bigger and louder than the last”.

 

Garret snorted, looking at the ever-silent figure of Havel, “I think you might be exaggerating things a bit”.

 

The knight eyed Havel. He grunted, “I still say that’s a loony who went grave robbing”.

 

Garret chuckled, “Would it kill you to trust my word?”

 

The knight opted for a simple stare, “…Just do me a favor,” he groused, “and get a move on”. He started to mumble, “Maybe you all will fall down a cliff, never to return”.

 

Garret stood up with a smile, “Never change man, never change”. He let out a piecing whistle, ignoring the knight’s grumblings, “Tactics meeting people! Over by the well!”

 

Havel grunted, moving to the well.

 

Siegmeyer turned his head with a low hum, “Oh, it seems I am needed”. He gave Lautrec a hard pat on the back, “I’ll be sure to come back and continue this lovely conversation!”

 

Lautrec rolled his shoulder, glaring at Siegmeyer. “…Damn Catarinan” he muttered darkly.

 

Garret bounced on the balls of his feet when Beatrice and Solaire stepped into view, the former visibly agitated. Garret strained to hear her ranting, “Of all the arrogant, conceited pieces of-!”

 

“Now, now” Solaire held up his hands calmly, “From what I’ve seen, Petrus is merely unpleasant with everyone…save for Havel at any rate, given the prostrations”.

 

Beatrice scoffed, “Did he call you ‘a dirty heathen that needs to find the gods’?”

 

“I will say, that was uncalled for,” Solaire conceded.

 

Soon after, Oscar and Siegmeyer joined them.

 

Garret clapped his hands, “Ok then. We’ve got,” he started to count on his fingers, “two…four things we need to get done in the Lower Burg, before we tackle the sewers”.

 

Havel grunted, “How complicated?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Nothing too crazy…honestly the most annoying thing will be the Capra Demon holding the key to the sewer. No wait, scratch that,” he grimaced, “the dogs will be the most annoying thing”.

 

Siegmeyer clapped his hands, “Well, I’m sure you have a plan regardless!”

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah. You and Havel can tackle the demon”.

 

“Huzzah!” Siegmeyer clapped Havel on the shoulder, “I am sure ours will be a glorious battle!”

 

Havel slumped his shoulders slightly.

 

Oscar raised a hand, “What will the rest of us do?”

 

Garret gestured to the four of them, “We’re going to clear out the rest of the Burg, opening up a couple shortcuts”. He sighed, “There’s also a sorcerer, Griggs, trapped down there, plan on helping him out. And after that, the only things left to do before coming back here will be collecting a coa--er, ember, for Andre, and saving a pyromancer, Laurentius from the first room of the sewers”.

 

Solaire tilted his head, “Two magic wielders are trapped in the same area? Why?”.

 

Garret frowned, “Well, I can’t speak-concretely-for Griggs, but Laurentius’s quest leads through the sewers”.

 

Beatrice crossed her arms, “What’s got them trapped”.

 

Garret scratched his cheek, “Well, Laurentius was trapped by a couple of cannibals, and Griggs…is locked in a house…did I get the key for that?” He muttered as he searched through his satchel.

 

Beatrice scrunched up her nose, “Who locks themselves in a house?”

 

Siegmeyer coughed into his gloved hands, “Well, it’s not as hard as it sounds”. He felt his cheeks redden as his companions turned their gazes towards him.

 

“…Moving on,” Oscar took control of the conversation, “Where do we start?”

 

Garret closed his bag, “The Upper Burg. But I’m going to need to stop by the merchant to grab a key”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Beatrice rolled her shoulder; staring at the sword Garret gave her--a good enough weapon, in her inexperienced opinion. She grimaced, it was a bit disconcerting to have to stand so close to an enemy though, ignoring years of experience.

 

“How’s the sword?” Havel walked up behind her.

 

Beatrice shrugged weakly, “Different”.

 

Havel nodded his head, “You will learn, with time”.

 

Beatrice sighed, “So you say”. A smile then grew across her face, “Hey! You’re not gasping!”

 

Havel rubbed his throat, “Yes. The Bonfires help”.

 

A cheery tune filled the air, and the two turned to see Garret jogging up the stairs, whistling all the way. “What’s that song?” Beatrice asked.

 

Garret stopped, “Hmm, oh it’s uh…part of a collection detailing the quest of an elf boy as he saves his homeland, multiple times over”.

 

Havel grunted, “Never heard of it”.

 

Garret clicked his tongue, “Don’t doubt that”. He led them to the ladder leading up the rampart, where Siegmeyer, Solaire, and Oscar were waiting. Garret pointed to the ladder “Up we go”.

 

Beatrice made it there first, and started to climb up. Garret climbed on after her. He didn’t climb however, freezing in place as Beatrice’s dress shifted, revealing more than a little bit of her legs.

 

“OW!” Garret rubbed the back of his head. He turned irritably, coming face to helm with Havel.

 

Havel growled, tapping Garret’s head, “Focus”. The bishop brushed past, moving up the ladder.

 

Garret frowned, which deepened as sniggering sounded off from behind him. He sent Oscar and Solaire a baleful glance, “Real mature,” he muttered, finally climbing the ladder.

 

Oscar moved forward with a laugh, “Ah, and here I thought this was going to be a depressing journey!”

 

**Line Break**

 

“All right Oscar,” Garret stood in front of the adder leading down, “take out that spear I grabbed way back when we started,” Oscar did as requested. “Great, you’re our frontline!”

 

“…Is because I laughed at you earlier?”

 

Garret sent him a deadpan stare, “…Narrow staircase, dogs that like to ram into things, hefty shield, you do the math”.

 

Oscar stared at the seer. Then, with a great sigh, he swapped out his sword for the spear, and slid down.

 

After walking out, he heard the dogs before seeing them--the clacking of their claws against stone, their harsh ragged breath. Oscar suppressed a shudder. Griping his spear, shield poised to block, he moved forward.

 

He tensed when a sharp bark pierced the air. The clacking grew louder, more frantic. Then, one of the dogs came into view. It was a pitiful thing. Thin, rotting flesh oozing through its skin, fur falling off as it rushed forward, jaws snapping.

 

It crashed into his shield with a whine. Striking quickly, Oscar stabbed forward, catching it in the throat. It flew away, crashing into another dog, but a third slipped underneath the carnage, ramming into Oscar, breaking his guard. He fell backwards, grunting as the dog bit onto his gauntlet.

 

He idly noted that either Garret or Beatrice shot off a spell at the other living beast, and that Solaire and Havel rushed forward to deal with a few torch-wielding Hollows. With a growl, he readjusted his grip, and slammed his shield into the dog. It staggered, but refused to let go. Oscar slammed his shield against it more and more. When it finally went limp, he was panting heavily, the blood running down his arm.

 

A hand appeared to his left, which he gratefully accepted. “Good job, friend,” Siegmeyer said.

 

Oscar grunted, taking a drink of Estus. “Its teeth were surprisingly sharp. You’d think they’d have rotted off along with most of its body”.

 

They walked forward, where Garret was moving his head back and forth. He sighed heavily, “All right, people, we’re about to be ambushed by three Hollows that know how to parry”.

 

Havel rolled his shoulders, “I’ll take point,” he said as he stomped forward.

 

Garret blinked, “Uh, okay. I was going to run up and gather their attention, but sure, let’s follow you’re lead”.

 

Havel stopped halfway down the street to the sound of three doors booming open. He noted his five companions attacking two of the foes, leaving the third one to him.

 

The mad Hollow rushed forward, holding its dagger in both hands. Havel back stepped away from its strike, and then slammed his shield forward, knocking the Hollow on its ass.

 

To the Hollow’s credit, it rolled away from Havel’s hammer strike. It pulled out its shield, and to Havel’s immense shock, parried his next blow. The bishop hissed as the Hollow shoved its blade through a chink in his breastplate. More annoyed than anything else, he brought his hand to the Hollow’s head, and with a swift clench, crushed its head. With a small groan, he pulled the knife out of his body, tossing it aside.

 

“Umm”.

 

Havel turned around to the sight of his companions staring at him, and if the reactions of Beatrice and Garret were anything to go by, they were in an odd mix of awe and fear.

 

Havel grunted, “What?”

 

Solaire coughed into his hand, “Uh, nothing, nothing at all”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Siegmeyer hummed at the front of the fog gate, staring down at the ‘new’ blade in his hands. “So, this blade does greater damage against demons?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah. I’m…not really sure why. You have any ideas Havel?”

 

Havel shook his head, “Don’t know,” he looked at Garret, “Where did these…demons come from?”

 

Garret frowned, “Huh…That throws one possible timeline out the window,” he muttered. He cleared his throat, “Uh, the Witch of Izalith tried to make a new First Flame, and got turned into a demon spawning…thing as a result”.

 

Havel didn’t move, “Oh…I see,” he bowed his head, “Foolish Quela, why would you do that?”

 

Garret tilted his head, “Wait, her name is ‘Quela’?”

 

Havel tilted his head up slightly, “Yes. Shouldn’t you know that, being a seer?

 

Garret groaned in mild disgust, “Trust me, I’m not as ‘all-knowing’ as you would hope”.

 

Siegmeyer cleared his throat, “As informative as this conversation may be, the two of us should get going”.

 

Beatrice nodded, “Yeah, c’mon guys, let’s go save those…pyromancers?” she asked Garret.

 

Garret walked across the bridge, “One pyromancer actually, the other’s a sorcerer who’s trapped down the street”.

 

Siegmeyer and Havel looked at each other as the others disappeared from sight. “So,” Siegmeyer started, “Should I go after the demon, and you the dogs?”

 

Havel hummed in thought, “Reverse. You’re strikes will be faster, easier to hit the dogs”. He held his shield up, “I can keep the demon at bay”.

 

Siegmeyer frowned, “Are you sure?”

 

Havel nodded, “Positive”. Siegmeyer nodded in reply, and the two stepped through the fog.

 

The demon roared as soon as the pair made it through. Siegmeyer spotted the dogs behind it, and dashed forward. The demon swung at him with one of its blades, which he rolled under. The second blade however, would have hit him, were it not for a timely block by Havel’s shield.

 

The blade bounced off of the magic rock, allowing Siegmeyer to attack the dogs. The demon turned its attention to Havel, growling lowly. With a mighty roar, it swung at Havel, who shifted his shield slightly, forcing the blade into the ground. Undeterred, it swung its other blade; again, it hit the shield, but this time Havel slid backwards.

 

The demon tore its other blade from the ground, running toward Havel. Hefting his hammer and shield, he caught both blades, wincing slightly. Using its height to its advantage, the demon pushed down. Havel buckled a little under the pressure. Thinking quickly, he shot his foot out at the demon’s shin. The demon flinched at the blow, allowing Havel to shove it backwards, into Siegmeyer’s path, who had just finished the last dog.

 

Siegmeyer struck a successful blow on the demon’s back. It hissed in pain, whirling around to strike the new attacker. It swung at Siegmeyer, who rolled away. It did not forget about Havel, however, and swung its other blade in a wide slash, forcing Havel to abandon his attack in favor of dodging; the demon, irritation clear in its eyes, hopped back against the wall.

 

Siegmeyer and Havel stood side-by-side, glaring at the demon, which glared back. Siegmeyer moved first, slashing down at the demon with a roar. The demon spun on its heel, smacking Siegmeyer with its tail. As he faltered, Havel dashed forward, swinging his hammer upward, catching the demon in the chin. It howled in pain, blood dripping from its broken jaw. It slashed both its blades down at Havel, who blocked the blows expertly. This left the demon open for a powerful thrust in the chest from Siegmeyer. The demon gurgled as blood poured from the wound. It went silent, however, when Havel brought his hammer down on its skull, crushing it, after which it disappeared in a harsh light, leaving only a key.

 

Siegmeyer, panting heavily, walked over to the spot the demon was. He bent down, “Well,” he jingled the key, “That was certainly exhilarating”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“So…Bishop Havel is truly…?”

 

Garret rolled his eyes, “Yes, he really is a member of our party. If you want, you can wait a bit and see him yourself”.

 

Griggs shook his head, “That won’t be necessary”. He bowed deeply, “Again, thank you so much”.

 

Solaire waved his hand, “Think nothing of it. We’re happy to help!”

 

Griggs straightened, “Right, well, I’d best be off to the Shrine. You said the path is clear?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah, just be sure not to rest at one of the bonfires on the way, that’ll bring everyone down here back to life”.

 

“Noted,” he smirked at Garret, “And I can’t wait to talk to you and your friend about sorceries”. That said, he walked towards the exit.

 

Just as he left their view, a door opened to the side, “Oh, he left already?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah,” he turned in her direction, “How are the new duds?”

 

Beatrice adjusted her usual hat. It and the gloves were the only parts left of her old outfit, opting to put on a black leather chest piece they found, along with leather boots. “I’ll admit, it’s weird wearing different clothes after so long”. She did a quick twirl, “How do I look?”

 

Garret smiled widely, “Marvelous! Just the outfit one needs to survive in this dreary world”.  Beatrice looked down with a smile.

 

Heavy footfalls caught their attention, and all four turned their heads to see Havel and Siegmeyer, the latter seeming very pleased with himself. “Hello friends!” Siegmeyer shouted with a wave, “We defeated the demon and got the key!”

 

Garret smirked, “Great! Now we can go into the sewers! Let’s go!” He lead them to the entrance.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret waited until everyone had made it into the room. He clapped his hands, “All right, we’ve only got two objectives here: freeing Laurentius, and getting the ember for Andre. Oscar, give Solaire you’re dragon shield, here you go Siegmeyer,” Garret handed the Catarinan his Black Knight Shield, “There are a few torch wielding Hollows here, you guys, and Havel, just stand in front of Beatrice, Oscar, and myself as we shoot at them”.

 

Solaire nodded, “And if any get too close, the three of us can easily dispatch them”.

 

“Right,” Garret replied, “Let’s get to it”.

 

The plan went off without a hitch.

 

The two knights returned the shields, “Okay,” Garret began, “Solaire, Oscar, you two are with me, we’re going to free Laurentius. Beatrice, Siegmeyer, Havel, you guys are going to get the ember”. He rubbed the back of his neck, “You three are going to have a couple dogs and Butcher to contend with. The Butcher should be fairly easy, standard enemy type. But be careful not to get into the water just beneath us. It’ll slow you down”.

 

Beatrice furrowed her brow, “But it’ll slow them down too wo-”

 

“Nope”.

 

Her face scrunched up, “Wait, what?”

 

Garret frowned, “Well, I don’ think it’ll stop them, but if you feel like trying, by all means,” he gestured to her, “it’s your death”. He cleared his throat, “Anyway, the three of us will only have to contend with a single Butcher, but he’s hiding up in the rafters. Any questions?” No one said anything. “Right then, let’s move”.

 

He led his Oscar and Solaire to the edge of the platform, where they dropped down.

 

Garret pointed up, “Bastard’s hiding up there. Oscar, think you can-”

 

“Already on it,” the knight said, aiming his shot. Taking a moment to steady hi arms, he let the nocked arrow fly. It sailed through the air, landing in the Butcher’s head, sending in flailing to the ground. It landed with a loud boom. Slowly, it tried to get up, only to roar in pain as Garret and Solaire stabbed their swords through its stomach, killing it.

 

Garret stood, a small smile on his face. He noted, with a wide smile, that the Butcher’s knife fell from its grip. He grabbed it, needing both hands to hold it comfortably, “This is a very good drop…and also impossible”.

 

“Hmm, what was that?” Oscar asked as he caught up with Garret and Solaire.

 

Garret shook his head, “Nothing, come on, let’s save Laurentius”.

 

They walked into the room. “You! Yes, you three!” a man, Laurentius called from the end of the room, trapped in a barrel, “Thank the gods, I thought I was done for!”

 

Garret waved a hand, “Yeah, nice to see you. Hold still”. Garret rolled through the barrels between him and Laurentius, breaking them all. When he got to Laurentius, he kicked the barrel holding Laurentius, which fell apart.

 

Laurentius arched his back, “Oh! Thank you friend. If you hadn’t come along, I’d have become supper!” He shuddered, “Eaten alive, ugh. Anyway, I’m Laurentius of the Great Swamp”.

 

Garret clapped him on the back, “Pleasure to be of assistance! I’m Garret of…you know, it really doesn’t matter,” he pointed behind him, “Those two are Oscar and Solaire”.

 

Laurentius waved to the both of them, “Thank you two as well”. He sighed, “I should head back to the Shrine, get my bearings and all that. But I won’t forget this debt, I assure you”.

 

Oscar held his hand up, “Actually, we’re heading back to the Shrine as well, aren’t we?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah, plus I know a shortcut! C’mon Laurentius, we need to meet up with the rest of our party”.

 

Laurentius raised a brow, “The rest?”

 

Solaire nodded, “Oh yes, three more. Lovely people! Though, Havel is a bit stoic”.

 

Oscar and Garret paused, waiting for Laurentius’s reaction to the mention of Havel. To their surprise, no such reaction came.

 

They turned to Laurentius, who had a puzzled expression on his face, “Umm…Is something wrong?” the pyromancer asked.

 

“…Bishop Havel the Rock is a member of our group,” Oscar stressed.

 

Laurentius tilted his head, “Is that supposed to mean something?”

 

Solaire, Oscar, and Garret exchanged glances.

 

Garret shifted his gaze to Laurentius, “…He was friends with the Witch of Izalith and her daughters”.

 

Laurentius’s jaw dropped, “What?!”

 

“There it is!”

 

**A/N: Finally back! As always, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

Revelations

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

“So, what were they like? Were they all very smart, or just my master’s master?”

 

Havel growled lightly, “I already answered that question”.

 

Laurentius frowned, “Did I? I’m sorry friend,” his face quickly morphed into a wide smile, “It’s just that, well, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who can tell me anything about the Witch and her daughters—besides my master, but he was fairly tight-lipped about them”.

 

Havel sighed. He moved back slightly—not that Laurentius noticed—and whispered to Garret, “Did you really have to pick him up?”

 

Garret chuckled, heading up the spiraling staircase, “Let him have his fun. He’s been looking forward to finding something relating to Quela and her family for years”.

 

“Oh! I didn’t notice you fell behind”.

 

Havel grumbled to himself as Laurentius started another one-sided conversation.

 

Garret smiled softly, _“Man…it’ll be fun to see Laurentius flip when he meets the three daughters down in Blighttown”_.

 

“Uh, miss,” he heard Solaire say from above, “We don’t need…moss right now”.

 

Garret face palmed, “Can’t believe I forgot about her,” he muttered.

He sped up the steps, noting that only Solaire was speaking with the (probably) insane sewer-dweller.

 

The woman perked up when she saw Garret, “Hell dearie,” she smiled brightly, “More and more people with their senses wandering around these parts”. She scowled at Solaire, “Hopefully you kept your manners”.

 

Solaire rubbed his arms, “I’m sorry ma’am, but I really don’t think-”

 

“Actually,” Garret interrupted him, “I would like to check out that lovely moss collection of yours”.

 

Her bright, misshapen smile found its way on her face once more, “I think I like you”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Griggs eyed Dusk, and the ring Garret wore on his finger, “So…you can bend Time and Space…with a ring?”

 

Dusk nodded shyly.

 

Griggs chuckled, turning up to the sky, “Oh, the wonders of Oolacile! The things you could teach us”.

 

Beatrice crossed her arms, “Doubt she could teach much,” she mumbled.

 

Dusk, the only one who heard her, twitched slightly.

 

Griggs cleared his throat, “Anyways, I, uh, guess we’d better get started with these…lessons…I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I can do this”. He scratched the back of his head, “I mean, I’m still technically an apprentice under Master Logan. I’m not sure I can properly teach three people”.

 

Garret smiled, “Well, you can cut that down to two people”.

 

The three turned to him, “What?”

 

Garret rolled his shoulders, “I’m going to go learn some stuff from Laurentius”.

 

Dusk tilted her head, “The pyromancer?”

 

“Yup”.

 

Griggs cocked a brow, “A-are you sure?”

 

Garret frowned, “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

 

Griggs opened his mouth, and then closed it. He brought a hand to his chin, “I…I guess there isn’t”.

 

Garret nodded with a smiled, “See you guys later”.

 

Dusk and Beatrice gently grabbed onto Garret’s arm (glaring at each other slightly as they did so). Beatrice said, “Good luck”.

 

Dusk followed with, “Do take care”.

 

“Don’t worry you two,” Garret moved forward, “Its just fire”.

 

The two women smiled at his retreating figure. They then narrowed their eyes at each other, harrumphing and turning away from each other.

 

“All right ladies,” they turned to Griggs, “I think it’d be best if we established what we do and don’t know”.

 

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” they both muttered, and then glared at each other once again.

 

Griggs slouched slightly, “This is going to be rough”.

 

A few feet away, Laurentius looked at Garret in surprise, “You, you want to learn Pyromancy?”

 

Garret sighed, “Why is that so hard to believe? Besides, I know that you planned on offering to teach me”

 

Laurentius shook his head, “No, uh, its just, well, no one’s ever sought me out to teach them. I’ve offered, but not everyone is…amicable”.

 

Garret slowly clapped him on the shoulder, “Well, I happen to think that the subject is fascinating”.

 

Laurentius smiled, “Fantastic, can’t wait to get started. Oh! But first, you’ll need a flame”.

 

He clapped his hands together, taking a deep breath, “All right, hold out your hand, doesn’t matter which one”.

 

Garret did so.

 

Laurentius summoned his own Pyromancy flame. He took in another breath, and placed his hand on top of Garret’s. The flame enlarged, enveloping both of their hands.

 

Garret winced; he could feel the flame burrow into his palm, snaking through his arm and into his soul.

 

After a few seconds, the flame receded, and Laurentius removed his hand.

 

Garret stared at the small flame on his palm in awe. He lifted it up to eye level, watching it dance in the air, “Woah…”

 

Laurentius cleared his throat, “A, uh, Pyromancer’s flame is a part of his own body. The flame develops right along with his skill”. He rubbed the back of his neck, “When I gave you that flame, I gave you a part of myself…Please take good care of it”.

 

Garret sent a wide smile towards Laurentius, “Don’t worry, I will”.

 

Laurentius nodded, “All right. Now, let’s get down to business”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar crossed his arms, “So, how much experience, exactly, do you have in combat situations?”

 

Rhea shook her head slowly, “None. But I would have been chosen for this mission if the Church did not have faith in me”.

 

“I realize that, but-”

 

“I appreciate the concern Sir Oscar, but I will be fine. I also have my trusted friends Vince and Nico, as well as Petrus.” she turned her head back to the ground, “Now please, leave me to my mission, as you leave on yours”.

 

Oscar walked away with a small huff.

 

He motioned to Oscar and Solaire, who were chatting animatedly with Rhea’s companions (save for Petrus, who was frowning in at the four).

 

Siegmeyer clapped Nico on the shoulder, “Good luck on your journey! And do speak up my good man; after all, losing your voice is the first sign of going hollow. Have a laugh every now and then, it will do you wonders. Why, look at me!” he chortled loudly, pointing at himself.

 

Solaire chuckled alongside him, “I concur!” The two knights walked off, laughing all the way.

 

Vince and Nico exchanged glances, “…What a…loony bunch”.

 

Nico grunted in agreement.

 

Oscar led Solaire and Siegmeyer into the derelict building, stopping just short of the water, “We cannot let th-”

 

“Hold on,” Solaire held up his hand, “Did you hear that?”

 

Oscar paused. He strained his ears, “I don’t hear anything”.

 

Siegmeyer titled his head, humming concernedly, “Neither do I. Are you well Solaire?”

 

Solaire tapped his helmet, “I just thought…never mind, continue Oscar”.

 

“Right, anyway, we can’t just let that woman and her entourage go on a veritable suicide mission”.

 

Siegmeyer and Solaire stared at Oscar for a bit. Siegmeyer hummed thoughtfully, “An admirable endeavor. But…I don’t really think it is our place to interfere Oscar”.

 

Solaire nodded, “Right. They have their own mission to accomplish, one that doesn’t intersect with ours. We should leave them to their business”.

 

Oscar brought a hand up to his faceplate. He removed his helmet, running a hand through his hair, “It’s just…have you seen those three?! Honestly? They’re practically children!”

 

“I think they’re around Garret’s age”.

 

Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yes, but Garret actually had experience in these situations. You can see it in their eyes, especially Rhea’s; they’ve never been in anything close to what goes on in Lordran”.

 

Siegmeyer tilted his head, “Well, I suppose you have a point”.

 

Solaire grunted, “Still, unless they ask for it, it isn’t our right to interfere.”

 

Oscar and Solaire started to argue back and forth on the matter, while Siegmeyer crossed his arms, humming lightly. After a moment, he snapped his fingers, catching Oscar and Solaire’s attention, “Friends,” he chuckled, “we happen to be traveling with a man who can see into the future”.

 

Oscar and Solaire stared at Siegmeyer in silence. Then, Oscar snorted, “You know,” he said as he put his helmet back on, “I had almost forgotten about that”.

 

The three walked out of the building, towards Garret, who was tossing multiple orbs of fire at a wall, under Laurentius’s supervision.

 

“Garret,” Oscar called, “Can you come here for a moment?”

 

Garret looked at the three. He turned to Laurentius, who nodded, and then jogged over.

 

“Yeah,” he took a quick gulp of Estus when he noticed he started to glow, “What’s up?”

 

“What can you tell us of the Thoroland clerics that just arrived?”

 

Garret froze. He gulped audibly, “Oh right…that”. He tugged at his collar, “Crap…Crap, crap, crap”. He tapped his foot on the ground. He looked at the trio, “All right, there are four, maybe five, things that intersect with the path those four go down”.

 

Oscar shifted in place, “And…do they end well?”

 

Garret grimaced.

 

Oscar held his hands up, “I knew it!”

 

“Keep it down!” Garret gestured wildly, “Last thing I want is for them to think something bad is going to happen to them and panic”.

 

Solaire grunted, “All right then, what’s the plan, how can we help?”

 

 “I don’t know how much help I want to provide,” Garret muttered.

 

“What was that?”

 

Garret groaned, “There’s a lot of…stuff…surrounding that group”.

 

“And?” Oscar asked exasperatedly, “Is that supposed to stop us from helping them?”

 

“Maybe? But I can’t just…grah!” Garret pulled at his hair, growling at the sky.

 

 

After a moment of silence, Garret sucked in a deep breath, taking a swig of Estus as he did so. He jerked his head, “Follow me,” he said. He led them past the bonfire (telling their friends they were going to get some sword practice in before they moved out), past Ana and Havel (who were sitting in companionable silence).

 

Oscar turned his head, “Where’s Lautrec?”

 

Havel shrugged, “Don’t know”.

 

Garret furrowed his brow, “There’s a couple possibilities,” and pressed on into the elevator.

 

“How much farther Garret?”

 

“A bit more Siegmeyer?”

 

He led them out the elevator and down the stairs, ignoring the mad hollows littered on the ground.

 

Solaire shuddered, “Poor souls”.

 

Garret grunted, unlocking the iron door to the tower, “Best not to think about them”. He shoved the door open, going down the stairs

 

He looked at each of them, “All right boys, take off your helmets”. They did so, “Now, I want you to look me in the eyes, and swear to me that what I’m about to tell you will not leave the four of us”.

 

The three took off their helmets, and swore.

 

Garret sighed, “…What do you all know of the Way of White?”

 

“They, by far, the largest religion in the world. If I remember correctly, they follow the will of Lord Gwyn,” Siegmeyer said.

 

“And after the undead curse started to become a real problem, various members were sent on pilgrimage to search for…some sort of lost charm,” Oscar added.

 

Garret wrung his hands, “That’s…true. But there’s another side to the story”. He sighed, “For the Church, Lordran is a place to dump their undead members”.

 

The knights stiffened. “What do you mean?” Oscar asked.

 

Garret rubbed his neck, “What I mean, is that no one from the Church expects their members to find the Rite of Kindling—that ‘charm’ the church lost”.

 

“What does it do?” Siegmeyer absent-mindedly asked.

 

“Upgrades bonfires—but that isn’t important right now”. Garret rocked on his heels, “What is important, is that the Church has taken measures to make sure that no one succeeds?”

 

“But why?”

 

“Because, Solaire, the less undead the Church and its congregation have to deal with, the better for them. Anyway, the immediate threat to Rhea Vince and Nico is…Petrus”.

 

Oscar narrowed his brow, “How do you mean?”

 

“He…will abandon or kill them the first chance he can,” Garret quickly said.

 

The three knights paled slightly. Then Oscar’s face reddened, and he headed for the stairs, “We have to stop him!”

 

“Hold up!” Garret leapt forward, blocking the way.

 

Oscar stared at Garret, perplexed, and a bit angry, “You just said-”

 

“I know what I just said,” Garret leaned forward, “But how do you think Rhea, Vince and Nico will react if you run up and accuse Petrus of being a murderer?”

 

Oscar took a deep breath. He trembled slightly, “First I find out what happened to Ana during our years apart, and now this?” He growled, “I think I’m done with religion”.

 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Garret said, “Almost any other covenant is better than the Way of the White”.

 

Oscar craned his neck. “All right,” he said, more calm than before, “so…what do we do about Petrus and this ‘Rite of Kindling’?”

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Petrus seems to be the more pressing concern”.

 

Garret nodded, “Right. Now, I’ve got a couple of ideas as to how to get rid of Petrus. Granted, most involve killing him, and with him being Undead and all that might not be the most reliable way to deal with him”.

 

“So, trap him then?”

 

“Got it in one, Solaire”.

 

“How can we help?”

 

Garret smiled grimly, “In my homeland, we have this phrase called ‘plausible deniability’. Trust me, the less you know, the better”.

 

The three knights shouted indignantly.

 

Garret gestured for them to calm down; “You guys need to focus on keeping Rhea, Vince, and Nico alive—figuratively speaking. Even without Petrus, there are a lot of ways to die in the catacombs”.

 

Siegmeyer frowned, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

 

Garret snorted, “I didn’t say that”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“And you’re sure this cleric is guilty?”

 

Garret nodded, “Positive, Havel”.

 

Havel hummed irritably, “…I don’t usually put stock in the crap you seers spout—last one I remember meeting said that the undead curse would end within a year-”

 

Garret let out a bark of laughter.

 

Havel smirked, “We all thought the same”. He turned to look at Garret, “Still, you’re a hell of a lot more accurate than any of those fools ever were…All right, tell me what needs to be done”.

 

While Garret and Havel were hashing out a plan, Oscar and Solaire were talking with the Thorolund clerics (Siegmeyer volunteered to repair everyone’s weaponry at the bonfire).

 

Rhea shook her head; “We cannot accept your help, for this is our duty, and ours alone”.

 

“But surely,” Solaire said, “It would be best for all of us to engage in truly jolly cooperation, under the banner of the gods”.

 

Rhea paused, “I…suppose…”

 

“Milady,” Petrus suddenly spoke up, “It would be best if we left now,” he glared lightly at Solaire and Oscar, “and if you and yours continued on your way as well”.

 

“Aw, c’mon, bit rude don’t you think”. The six people turned at Garret’s voice, “Besides, I’m sure the good Bishop Havel the Rock would love to help fellow adherents of Lord Gwyn’s rule”.

 

Three jaws dropped (to his credit, Petrus only raised his eyebrows to full height). “I-I-Is that true?” Vince croaked out, “Are you truly Bishop Havel, one of Lord Gwyn’s most trusted members, next to his knights and Allfather Lloyd?”

 

Havel stiffened slightly, “Yes…I am the same”.

 

Vince, Nico, and Rhea soon prostrated themselves in front of the Bishop (Petrus quickly followed suit). “Bishop Havel,” Rhea said, a slight tremor in her voice, “we would be honored if you would accompany us on our most holy mission”.

 

Havel looked over at Garret.

 

The sorcerer gestured towards the fours clerics, a bemused smile on his face.

 

Havel sighed, “I should have stayed in that tower”.

 

**A/N: So, just beat Ashes of Ariandel, and HOLY FUCK the last boss was amazing! The optional boss was pretty good, too, but man, little miss scythe master was a tough act to follow. In other news, the next, let’s say, rest of this story definitely needs a once over (goddamn DLC), so the catacombs are our next stop. Along with everyone’s favorite asshole. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**

 


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19:

 Dem Bones

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Havel eyed the group in front of him. He agreed with Oscar’s assessment, Rhea and her friends (barring Petrus) were in no shape for the horrors that would await them, especially in Gravelord Nito’s realm.

 

He perked up slightly, _“Whatever did happen to Lord Nito?_ ” he turned to look at Garret, chatting animatedly with Princess Dusk.  He decided to ask him outright.

 

He walked over to the pair, “Garret, a word?” He turned to Dusk, “Begging your pardon, Princess”.

 

Dusk moved over to the side, “It is no trouble, Bishop Havel. I should be on my way anyway”. She turned, smiling at Garret, “Goodbye Garret”.

 

Garret waved, “See you later,” and took off Dusk’s ring. She soon disappeared in a yellow light.

 

Garret turned to Havel, “What’s wrong?”

 

Havel grabbed Garret by the shoulder—eliciting a wince from the sorcerer—and moved to the side.

 

Garret rubbed his shoulder lightly, “Geez. Where’s the fire?” As he tilted his head up, he frowned, “Hey, did you get taller?”

 

Havel rolled his eyes, “What are the current whereabouts of Lord Nito?” Havel whispered.

 

Garret frowned, “Oh, that…” Garret looked over Havel’s shoulder. No one was paying them too much attention (well, Rhea, Vince, and Nico spared awe-filled gazes towards Havel every few seconds).

 

Garret cleared his throat, “He’s…taking a sabbatical in his home,” he whispered back.

 

“I see. I think I’ll pay him a visit”.

 

“I…don’t think he’ll answer your call”.

 

Havel grunted, “He will”.

 

Garret frowned nervously, “Havel, if you’re planning on doing what I think you’re planning on doing, I only ask that you don’t”.

 

Havel rolled his neck, “So, what then? Will you tell me what I want to know?”

 

Garret wrung his hands, looking at his feet “…Knowledge can be a heavy burden Havel”.

 

Havel grunted, “Regardless, I want to know, and if you won’t tell me, I’ll find someone who will”.

 

Garret sighed deeply, “…Fine,” he sent Havel a small frown, “Whatever you say”. He pursed his lips, “Hey, since you plan on heading there anyway, could you…ask Nito for one of his nifty swords?”

 

Havel cocked a brow, “Uh, sure. I Didn’t realize he was in the smithing business, but sure”.

 

“Thanks!” Garret said cheerfully.

 

Havel shook his head in amusement as Garret walked towards the others.

 

Garret cleared his throat, “Ok people,” he called out, “Ready to shove off?”

 

Eight heads nodded.

 

Garret nodded, then began to strip out of his clothes.

 

Rhea gasped, and quickly averted her eyes. Vince sidled over to further block her view, “What the he-”

 

“Leave it alone,” Oscar said with a bored tone.

 

Vince sputtered, glaring at Oscar “Wha-leave it alone?! He’s stripping naked! In front of two ladies no less!”

 

“I don’t mind,” Beatrice blushed, coughing into her hand, “I mean, uh, care. I don’t care…at all”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “You can move, Garret’s already left”.

 

Vince swiveled his head to where Garret stood, “…When did he…?”

 

“Can we really trust him?” Petrus suddenly said. He paused to ensure all attention was on him, “I mean, truly? I think its safe to say he’s not in his right mind”. He furrowed his brow at Beatrice, Solaire, Oscar, and Solaire, “And what does that say for you four?”

 

Havel growled, “ **I** trust him”. He looked at his companions, “And them as well”. He stalked over to Petrus, glaring down at the cleric, “Are you saying that I’m not in my right mind?”

 

Petrus paled, “O-o-of course not!” He quickly dropped to his knees, “I’m terribly sorry Bishop Havel! Please, forgive my transgressions!”

 

Under their helms, Havel, Solaire, Oscar, and Siegmeyer smirked.

 

“Hey,” Beatrice said, “I think you’ve made your point, Havel”.

 

Havel grunted, but backed off.

 

Splashing water caught the group’s attention.

 

An almost naked hollow climbed up the steps.

 

Garret rubbed a spot over his chest, “Ooh…that hurt”.

 

“What killed you, Garret?”

 

“A bunch of skeletons,” Garret started to put on his clothes. “I managed to blow up a necromancer, so all the skeletons in the first area will stay down no matter who kills them”.

 

Rhea frowned, “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Garret adjusted his boar helmet, “If a necromancer’s around, skeletons will keep reanimating—unless you have a blessed weapon like Oscar and Vince do”.

 

Nico looked down at his axe in interest.

 

Garret smirked, “Guess you didn’t know about that little tidbit, huh?

 

“How about you Petrus?” Oscar asked the older cleric, “Did you know that divine weapons are the most reliable way to kill skeletons?”

 

Petrus fidgeted, “…No”.

 

Siegmeyer chuckled, “Well, now you do!” He hefted his Zweihander, “Are you ready to go, Garret?”

 

Garret nodded.

 

As Garret and co. started to walk forward, a loud groan caught his attention. Garret sighed, “What now?” He turned to face Nico.

 

Nico gestured to Garret.

 

Garret looked down, “What, my clothes?”

 

Nico shook his head.

 

“Well,” Garret stepped towards him, arms spread slightly, “What is it?”

 

Rhea cleared her throat, “Aren’t you going to reverse hollowing?”

 

Garret frowned, said, “…In a bit,” and led the way forward.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret looked over the Thoroland clerics, and Beatrice, as they rested at the first bonfire at the catacombs. He walked over to his companions (sans Beatrice), who were gathered around the large switch in the room.

 

“Listen up,” he whispered, “The biggest problems here are the necromancers, and some more of those floating skulls from before”.

 

Solaire winced, “Thank you again for grabbing me before I fell, Havel”.

 

Havel grunted.

 

“Anyway, as I’ve already said, make sure the Rhea, Vince, and Nico stay alive. I don’t think they could handle a death, not yet at least”. The four men nodded, “There may also be a man named Patches down there. No matter what you might think, he’s useful. There’s also some other stuff that doesn’t pertain to Rhea and everyone else that I want to get, so I’ll slip away for a bit, but other than that we just lead them down to the guardian of this zone”.

 

They nodded in affirmation.

 

Garret smiled, and started to move away. He then paused, and leaned back, “And if you think you can make a jump, don’t. Better safe than sorry”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“Milady, are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine, Vince,” Rhea panted, sitting on a large stone block, “I’m merely…unused to these endeavors”.

 

Garret grimaced, _“God, this is pathetic…no wonder Petrus hates her”_. Then, a plan formed in his head.

 

He cleared his throat, “Tell you what. How about Oscar, Havel, and myself go on ahead and clear the path for us all, for this level at least?”

 

Beatrice frowned, “Just you three?”

 

Garret rubbed his ribs, “It’s a bit crowded if we all fight together. Don’t you think, Nico?”

 

The silent cleric blushed slightly, shifting his weapon to the side.

 

Solaire clapped his hands before anyone else could say anything, “I concur! Besides, now would be a good time to pray to the gods that this mission be successful, don’t you all agree?”

 

Siegmeyer hummed appreciatively, “A grand idea my friend. Come everyone!” Siegmeyer sat down, “Let’s all join in a circle and pray!”

 

“Hold a moment,” Petrus began, “I don’t think-” he got cut off when Siegmeyer pulled him down roughly.

 

“Actually,” Rhea said as she sat down, “I think it would be wise to do so. Thank you for the suggestion, Sir Solaire”.

 

“Don’t mention it,” Solaire said jovially.

 

Beatrice backed away, “I don’t think this is something I want to be a part off”.

 

Rhea sent a soft smile towards Beatrice, “Nonsense. Even witches such as yourself can find solace in the gods”.

 

Beatrice’s eye twitched, “What’s that supposed to-”

 

“Beatrice!” Garret said as he grabbed her by the shoulders, “Thank you for volunteering to join us”. As he led her away, he smiled widely at the group of prayers.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret dodged out of the way a scimitar swipe, and quickly sprung up and shot a blast of sorcery at the offending skeleton. It was peppered with another couple arrows from Beatrice, before Oscar struck it down.

 

Oscar spun around with a leap, cutting the head off of the other skeleton trying (and failing) to break through Havel’s guard.

 

Oscar rolled his shoulders, “These skeletons are really annoying”.

 

Havel snorted, “No more annoying than you undead”.

 

Beatrice wrinkled her nose, “At least we don’t smell as bad”.

 

Havel made a ‘so-so’ gesture.

 

Beatrice was aghast, “Beg your pardon?”

 

“To be fair,” Oscar said, “You were stuck in a crystal for centuries, and it’s not like we’ve had time to bathe on this adventure of ours”.

 

Beatrice frowned, “But, still-”

 

“Hey!” Garret yelled, “There’s a way out over here!”

 

Beatrice stared hard at Oscar, “…just…forget it”.

 

Oscar shrugged, walking ahead.

 

The three joined Garret at the exit. Beatrice pointed to the spiky bridge, “We’re not supposed to cross that, are we?”

 

Garret hummed, “You know, I never thought of that”. He tapped his cheek, “If we weren’t in a bit of a hurry, I’d certainly try, but for now I’ll just use the lever found at the end of that slope”.

 

Oscar grimaced at the sight of floating skulls just ahead. “Oh great, more of those…”

 

Garret sighed, “Yeah, and lucky me has to ran past them”. He pointed across the bridge, “You can do your best to kill the necromancer just across though”.

 

Beatrice frowned, “Sorceries are spotty at longer ranges, you know that Garret”.

 

“Oh yes. If only we had a pair of binoculars, eh, Oscar?”

 

Oscar scoffed, pulling out his bow, “I did us a favor”.

 

Havel growled, interrupting the budding argument.

 

Garret pointed down the slope, “I’m going to go push that lever now”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“…And thank you Lord Flann, for helping to bring structure to the Fire that is such a great part of our lives. And thank you Lady Gywnevere for-”.

 

“Um, pardon, Sir Siegmeyer,” Petrus said, “But do we really need to personally thank every god?”

 

Siegmeyer gasped, “Do we-we’ve been chosen to enter their homelands! It is only right that we pay the proper respects! Don’t you agree, M’lady Rhea?”

 

“I, uh, suppose”.

 

“You suppose?!”

 

Solaire tutted, “Such blasphemy…what are they teaching you clerics these days?”

 

Rhea paled slightly, and she bent down lower, muttering a quick prayer of forgiveness.

 

Petrus growled, but when Solaire and Siegmeyer turned their hardened gazes towards him, he quieted.

 

**Line Break**

 

“So, we don’t light this bonfire?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yup. It’s easier this way. Backtracking back to the Shrine from here is… its’ a nightmare, trust me”.

 

Beatrice nodded, accepting the logic.

 

Oscar, however, frowned, “But it was behind an illusory wall. Why’d you reveal it if you didn’t want to use it?”

 

Garret was silent, before striking a pose, “Because I am a Seeker of Truth”.

 

Silence.

 

Havel snorted, “Thought that sounded better in your head,” he stuck his shield in front of a statue, stopping a bunch of spikes from jutting out, “Didn’t you?”

 

Garret folded his arms, looking down and grumbling under his breath.

 

Beatrice patted Garret’s shoulder. She whispered, “I thought it was cool,” into his ear.

 

Garret blushed slightly. He rubbed his nose, a small, thankful smile on his face.

 

“Hey!” Oscar shouted from further ahead, “I think I see someone up this ladder”.

 

Garret perked up, “Ooh, he is here!”

 

Garret rushed ahead, hurrying up the ladder. “Patches!” he called out, then frowned. “…Where are you?”

 

Garret pulled himself up. He scanned the area, and caught sight of black leather hiding behind a rock. “There you are!”

 

The man flinched, then swiftly turned around, standing to face Garret. “Hello…friend,” Patches wrung his hands nervously. “Do, uh, do I know you?”

 

“Nope. But I know you”.

 

Patches chuckled nervously, “Sure, sure”. He gulped when Oscar, Beatrice, and Havel climbed up, “…You all aren’t, Clerics, are you?”

 

“No,” Garret waved his hands in front of him, “of course not…Havel’s a Bishop though,” Garret pointed to the hulking gray figure.

 

Patches nodded absentmindedly, then did a double-take, “Hold on, did you say-”

 

“Yes,” Garret cut him off, walking forward, “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite”. Garret tilted his head, “He does have a giant tooth he likes to hit people with, though”.

 

Patches paled, “Oh…neat…”

 

Garret looked behind him, “You guys can go grab the others from their…prayer circle, I got some bartering to do”.

 

“Sure thing,” Oscar said, “Anyone coming with?”

 

Beatrice sucked in a breath, “I’d rather not…”

 

Havel jerked his head towards the ladder, “I’ll wait with you by the bridge”.

 

Beatrice shrugged, “Sure”.

 

After Oscar, Beatrice, and Havel climbed down the ladder, Patches rolled his shoulders, “Ok then

 

Patches chuckled nervously, “So, uh, wares. Right, well I think I’ve got-”

 

“Let me stop you right there”. Garret held up a hand, eyes narrowed, “I’ve got something I want done, and you’re going to help me do it”.

 

Patches gulped as Garret’s eyes flashed red, “…Trusty Patches at your service,” he said in a high-pitched voice.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret pointed down the hole, “You know what to do, right?”

 

Patches sighed, “Yeah, yeah. Talk to some skeleton down there; go past that creepy guy with the masks, travel down to ‘my’ pit. Nothing I haven’t done before friend”. Patches gulped, “We are friends, right?”

 

Garret smiled, “Of course we are!” He walked away, “And don’t light any bonfires!”

 

“Of course,” Patches waved back. He then pulled at his collar, “Crazy one you are,” he muttered. “But hey, I get to screw over a cleric…Silver linings Patches,” he blew out a breath, stepping backwards, “Silver linings”.

 

He ran forward, leaping before he hit the edge. He rolled when he landed, only to bite back a curse when he hit his head on a wall.

 

He rubbed his forehead, “Ooh, that smarts”.

 

He got up, still rubbing his head, when something caught his eyes. He bent down to pick it up. He turned the green stone around in his hands, “…You look like you’ll fetch a pretty penny”. He pocketed it with a grin.

 

He took a swig of ‘his’ Estus, and carefully slid down the hole. He stumbled a bit when he reached the brick floor.

 

He sat down, swinging his legs over the edge, and hopped down.

 

He took a look around the dark corridor he landed in.

 

Then he heard stomping footsteps. He slowly turned around to see a tall, rotund skeleton (with facial hair Patches might of laughed at in any other situation).

 

The skeleton (and Patches was sure this was that Vamos character that loony sorcerer prattled on about) hefted a large pickaxe.

 

Before Patches could say anything, Vamos turned to a wall, and swung his pickaxe at it. The wall crumbled easily under the massive skeletons strength.

 

Vamos turned to Patches, pointing to the hole, “Be gone with you!” he declared. He turned around, “You’ll spoil my focus”.

 

Patches considered (very, heavily considered) turning tail and running for the hills. But then he remembered the way Garret’s eyes shone an eerie red, how he spoke of things no one could possibly know of.

 

Patches shuddered, walking towards Vamos, who was hammering away at some hot iron.

 

“Um, pardon me?”

 

Vamos continued hammering away, “What, you in need of some work?”

 

“No, actually I-”

 

“Then you can shove off!”

 

Patches rolled his eyes, “Look, I don’t need your help, but I know someone that does”. His eyes roamed around Vamos’s workplace, before landing on an ornate helmet.

 

“Oh,” Vamos said, “Then why aren’t they here themselves?”

 

“Hmm, oh!” Patches tore his gaze away from the helm, “He’s on the job right now,” Patches inched his hand over to the helm, “but he told me to tell you,” a few inches closer, “That he knows where he can find you some embers for uh, Fire and Chaos enchantments, I think was what he said,” the helm was just in reach!

 

Then, Vamos’s hammer slammed down right in front of Patches hand. The thief yelped, jumping back.

 

Vamos stared at Patches, “…‘Chaos’? The hell is that? Something to do with the legendary witch?”

 

Patches flexed his fingers, eyeing the hammer, “I…suppose”.

 

Vamos grunted, “…All right. Say I believe you, what does your friend want in return?”

 

“Search me,” Patches answered honestly, “All I know is that I don’t want to cross him”.

 

“Hmm, well, if he’s able to put fear in someone as rotten as you,” Vamos pulled his hammer back, grabbing his helm as well, “He can’t be all bad”.

 

Vamos started to hammer again, “Tell your friend I’m all ears for his offer”.

 

“Sure, sure,” Patches said, walking towards the exit, legs shaking slightly as he searched for his usual shortcut.

 

**Line Break**

 

Solaire stared down the hole, “So, you’re going to head down and collect this ritual thing before us, right?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yup. After that I’ll meet up with you guys, and you’ll lead Rhea and her friends back to Firelink”.

 

“And you’ll deal with Petrus”.

 

Garret clapped the sun knight on the shoulder, “Yes sir. Oh, and Havel will meet you guys later”.

 

Solaire sighed, “Ok then. Good luck!”

 

Garret gave a slight nod in return, said, “Be careful by the way, there’s a Black knight on the way down”.

 

“You already told us that”.

 

“Just making sure you’re properly scared”.

 

Solaire sent him a thumb up, before jogging towards the rest of their party.

 

Garret rolled his shoulders, steeling his nerves before hopping off the ledge.

 

He held back a cry of pain when he landed.

 

He searched the ground, smirking when he found a glowing white summon sign (along with the armor of some poor cleric—which he quickly pocketed).

 

He tapped the sign, stepping back to give the helper some room.

 

When a man in robes and armor, hefting a large hammer rose from the ground in a white light, Garret clapped his hands. “Alright Leeroy, here’s the plan. You and I,” he quickly gestured between them, “Are going to book it for the fog gate. Now wait,” Garret grabbed Leeroy’s shoulder as he tried to move forward, “You are a contingency plan, and you don’t attack unless I tell you to, got it?”

 

Leeroy readjusted his hammer.

 

 “Got it?” Garret repeated forcefully, narrowing his eyes at the paladin.

 

Leeroy, after a moment, gave a slight nod.

 

“Good”. Garret pulled out a glowing skull from his pouch; “On my mark…” he threw the skull, “Now!”

 

Garret and Leeroy sprung into action, leaping off of the ledge they stood on. Thankfully, Garret threw the skull far enough away that none of the bonewheel skeletons paid them any attention.

 

Panting slightly, Garret took a moment to stand in front of the fog wall. He looked over to Leeroy, stoic and calm. Garret took in a deep breath, and pushed through the fog.

 

After getting through the fog, Garret eyed the giant coffin. He turned to Leeroy, “Do you know what was in here, originally?”

 

Leeroy didn’t move.

 

Garret groaned, “I know you can’t say anything, but would it kill you to use your body language?”

 

Leeroy walked forward.

 

Garret scoffed, “Fine,” he moved forward as well, “Be a dick!”

 

Garret jogged ahead. He turned to Leeroy, “Don’t come down unless I call for you”. Without checking to see the paladin respond, Garret hopped into the large coffin.

 

He quietly moved forward, frowning unsteadily at the sight of numerous skeletons hanging from the ceiling.

 

He loosened his collar, stepping into the water leading up to Pinwheel.

 

“All right buddy!” Garret shouted, “Listen up!”

 

Pinwheel whirled around, lanterns clanking as it did so. It’s six blank eyes staring at Garret.

 

“Now, I don’t have any beef with you, all I want are two things: to go past this place,” Pinwheel’s three heads, one shaped like a man, one like a woman, and another like a child, nodded thoughtfully, “…and to ask you to give me the Rite of Kindling”.

 

Pinwheel moaned lowly, and rose into the air, lanterns lighting up with an unearthly fire.

 

“Hold on,” Garret said, holding his hands out in front of him, “I know that doesn’t seem appealing to you. But think about it, just for a minute”. Garret gulped, “How long have you been trying, huh?” he stepped forward, “How long has it been since the…incident?”

 

Its three heads looked down in sorrow.

 

“Too long, huh?” He continued moving closer, step-by-step. “Now, I’m not going to claim to know what set you on this path, but I can tell you that…it isn’t going anywhere”.

 

The lower head shook.

 

“Just...think about it,” Garret let out a shaky breath. “What happened to you three, you can’t fix it, not with,” he gestured to the piles of books around them, “this”.

 

The lower head growled, while the two upper heads shifted to caress each other.

 

“Now, there are a few ways this can go down,” Garret slowly inched closer to Pinwheel.” Option one, we fight, and you all die”.

 

All three heads growled at him.

 

“Option two, you guys give me the Rite of Kindling, and leave this place. Live out the rest of your days in peace somewhere far away”.

 

The middle head groaned lightly, and the lower and upper heads shifted to comfort it.

 

“Option three, I find a way to fix you”.

 

The heads froze.

 

Garret swallowed nervously, “Obviously, you’re research hasn’t gotten you anywhere. But I know a place, a library, whose stockpile of knowledge easily dwarfs this one”.

 

Garret stopped in front of Pinwheel, looking each mask in the eyes, before speaking again, “You all know Seath the Scaleless?”

 

They nodded.

 

“Well, then you should know that he hoards knowledge, lots of knowledge over the course of millennia. And my quest is going to take me smack dab in the middle of his library,” he sent Pinwheel a smirk, “And he is bound to have something, some necromantic ritual, stored in a scroll or book, deep in there”.   

 

Garret held out his hand, “All I ask, is that you give me the Rite of Kindling”.

 

Garret licked his lips nervously as the three heads shifted to look at each other, muttering in some strange tongue.

 

Pinwheel held a lantern in front of Garret.

 

“I promise,” Garret, said, staring into the lower head’s eyes “this isn’t a trick”.

 

The lantern glowed brightly.

 

Garret stiffened, but didn’t move.

 

Then, a red light poured out from the lantern.

 

Garret sighed in relief as the Rite of Kindling took shape in his palm.

 

“Oh, thank you,” Garret held the rite in both hands, “Thank you so much!” He sent Pinwheel a wide smile, “I assure you you will not regret this!”

 

Six lanterns surrounded Garret’s body, and the lower head growled lightly.

 

Garret stepped back, putting the Rite of Kindling in his pouch, “Hey, no need to tell me twice”.

 

He frowned, “Oh, but, you guys might want to hide for a bit. I’ve got a group of people coming by. They’re mostly good people—bar one—but at the same time…half of them are clerics”.

 

The three heads perked up at that. They swirled their lanterns, and in a flash of light, disappeared.

 

Water splashed behind Garret.

 

He turned around, smiling at Leeroy, “Hey! So, guess I didn’t need you…you can go now”.

 

Leeroy stared at Garret for a moment, before kneeling to the ground, pulling out a black crystal.

 

“Oh,” Garret said, “One more thing. If you see Nito, tell him I said hi”.

 

Leeroy sharply jerked his head up, but before anything could come of it, he disappeared.

 

**Line Break**

 

Havel glared at the giant stone demon, as it slowly dragged itself forward.

 

 _“Huh, the Royal Family really has let things go to shit,”_ he thought, _“Letting these abominations run around”_.

 

The demon, finally, noticed Havel standing in front of it.

 

It raised its staff in the air, electricity crackling at its tip. It shoved its arm forward, a bolt of lightning soaring from the spear towards Havel.

 

Havel brought up his shield, easily blocking the projectile. He sprinted forward, holding his hammer high above his head.

 

He hopped up, and swung his hammer down on its lone good leg. It shook in agony, before bringing its hand up, and swatting down at Havel.

 

The bishop rolled away, springing to his feet.

 

The demon, still in pain, leapt into the air, spinning its staff around, poised to stab Havel.

 

Havel quickly stepped back, causing the staff to sink where he stood. Havel raised his shield high in the air, and then slammed it down on the staff, and the hand holding it.

 

The demon reared back, holding its broken hand with the other, its staff lay broken just in front of it.

 

Havel then swung his hammer, gripping it with both hands, into the demon’s chest, the force behind the blow slamming it into a wall.

 

The demon bounced off of the wall, crashing to the ground. Feebly, it tried to rise using its one good hand.

 

Havel swung his hammer in between its antenna, smashing through its body, which dissolved into light.

 

Havel grunted as he set his hammer upon his back, bending down to pick up the titanite left behind.

 

 _“Huh, Boram would like this,”_ Havel frowned heavily under his mask, _“if he’s still alive that is…”_

 

Havel sighed deeply, moving towards the end of the room. He bent down to pick up three large stone eyes.

 

Havel pocketed the eyes, and searched the room for an open coffin, which he found easily enough.

 

He hopped into it, immediately finding it uncomfortable. He squirmed, trying to find some semblance of comfort, when footfalls caught his attention.

 

He looked up just in time to see a skeleton close him in the coffin.

 

“Always with the dramatics,” he mumbled to himself.

 

After he spent a few minutes seemingly floating in darkness, he felt the coffin jostle.

 

The coffin opened suddenly, revealing a cave ceiling.

 

With a sigh, Havel puled himself out of the coffin. He walked forward, rolling his shoulders as he looked around the cave.

 

His eyes soon fell upon the Gravelord himself, resting in a large coffin.

 

Havel quickly strode over, and kneeled before Nito.

 

“Gravelord Nito, Lord of Death and Decay,” he intoned, “I humbly ask you to rise from your slumber, so that you might answer my questions”.

 

Finished with his small speech, Havel remained kneeling.

 

After a few silent, tense seconds, air started to whoosh in the cavern. Followed by bones clacking against bones.

 

With an airy groan, Nito clasped his coffin, pulling himself out. He stabbed his blade in front of Havel—who had yet to move—before leaning down to face the stoic bishop.

 

 **“Havel?”** The smell of death seeped into the air, **“Havel the Rock?”** Nito leaned back, chuckling darkly, **“Ahh, it would appear Gwyn’s ‘precautions’ were for naught”**.

 

Havel almost snorted.

 

 **“What was it you said, when we sentenced you to exile? Ah, yes, ‘A curse upon you all! One day soon, you shall all bear the consequences of your sins”**.

 

Skeletons started to form around the two.

 

 **“So tell me,”** Havel pointed his blade towards Havel,   **“Are you here to fulfill that oath?”**

 

“No my Lord,” Havel replied, “I seek only answers”.

 

The skeletons stopped forming.

 

 **“Oh?”** Nito ran a finger along the outside of his blade, **“I would think that little sorcerer of yours could give you all the answers you might want”**.

 

Havel frowned, “How do you-”

 

 **“I AM the Lord of the Dead, Havel. What they see, I see. Even hollows, tenacious as they are, die, if only for a moment. And a moment is all I need”**.

 

Havel nodded, “Of course. Regardless, my friend has made it clear that his gift is limited. That, and he has admitted to wanting to keep certain…harsh truths from me”.

 

Nito sighed greatly, **“Yes… Anor Londo is certainly a pale, deformed shade of what it once was”**.

 

Havel gulped, “…How bad is it?”

 

 **“…Do you truly wish to know?”** Nito asked in a (relatively) soft tone.

 

Havel was silent for a long moment, “…Yes. Please, tell me what my friend won’t”.

 

Nito let out a deep, long sigh, **“Very well,** ” he leaned back against his coffin, **“Get comfortable, Havel, for this is a lengthy, miserable tale”**.

 

So, Nito regaled Havel with the tale of how Anor Londo and its gods, knights, citizens, the entire society, fell, piece by piece.

 

A pit quickly nestled deep in Havel’s very soul, every name and event wounding him deeper than any blow he ever suffered.

 

When Nito finally finished, Havel shuddered, staying silent for many long moments.

 

Then, he tore his helmet off, and allowed loud, coarse sobs to rip their way out of his throat.

 

He roared and screamed, slamming his fists on the ground.

 

Nito watched on in silence. Had he not mourned his fill in the centuries past, he would have joined the bishop.

 

Eventually, Havel’s hoarse yells died down, becoming silent whimpers.

 

When his chamber no longer echoed rage and sadness, Nito asked, **“So, now that you know what has transpired since your banishment, what do you plan to do?”**

 

Havel was silent, staring down at the cavern floor. He picked up his helm, staring into the faceplate. “…First, I will thank Garret for keeping the full story from me, it would not have done well to breakdown as I did in front of the others. Second, well,” gripped his helm tightly, “My original goal has not changed. Seath will die. Soon”.

 

Nito inclined his head, **“Is that all?”**

 

Havel put his helm on, “I…I wish to continue assisting Garret on his quest. This whole ‘Chosen Undead’ business may be a load of crock, but I won’t allow this world to fall to darkness. Neither, I suspect, will Garret”.

 

**“And…afterwards?”**

 

Havel clenched his fist, “…Make no mistake, what Lord Gwyn did to me, what he allowed that snake to do, I cannot forgive. I _refuse_ to forgive. But…Gwyndolin is innocent of his father’s sins, and needs all the help he can receive”.

 

Nito inclined his main head, **“A noble pursuit, if there ever was one”.**

 

Havel stood up, “I…I don’t suppose you would be willing to…?”

 

Nito scoffed, **“No, I will not be offering my assistance. I’ve seen hundreds upon thousands prospective ‘Chosen Undead’ fail; most of them, right after they ring that first bell”**. Nito chuckled, **“When the time comes, Garret and I will meet, but no sooner”**.

 

Havel nodded, “Very well”. He looked around, “How do I…?”

 

Nito pointed to the coffin Havel was brought in, **“You can travel back using that coffin; before that, however, a parting gift”**.

 

Havel titled his head in confusion, “A gift…Oh!” he snapped his fingers, “You mean that sword Garret was asking about”.

 

 **“Well,”** several of Nito’s heads smirked, **“Make that two gifts”**.

 

Nito held out his blade, shadows forming on the tip. After a few seconds, the shadows shot out, forming a sword, which imbedded in the ground in front of Havel.

 

Havel grasped the hilt, easily lifting it from the ground. He gave it a few swings, admiring the balance of the curved blade.

 

“A good blade,” he observed,” It’s no hammer, but…”

 

Nito chuckled, **“And now, the second gift”**.

 

Nito held out his other hand. Bones around the Gravelord began to shake. From all around the cavern, bones whirled around Havel and Nito, before coalescing on Nito’s palm.

 

The bones soon took shape, forming small legs, a body, wings, and a beaked skull. Nito’s palm shook slightly, and the avian skeleton was coated in black. It then shook, ruffling its feathers.

 

The bird flew out of Nito’s palm, flittering around Havel’s head.

 

Havel held an arm up, giving the bird a perch to land on. It did so gracefully, preening itself. “A…crow?”

 

 **“His name is Benito”**.

 

“Of course it is,” Havel mumbled. He eyed Benito, “Still, I doubt Lady Velka would appreciate this”.

 

Nito snorted in an undignified manner, **“My relationship with her is not as caustic as hers is with the Royal Family”**. Several of Nito’s skulls smirked, **“He’ll keep an eye on you and your companions for me. Your assurance in this sorcerer has…piqued my interest”**.

 

Havel nodded, watching Benito as he moved to his shoulder. He pet his head with a finger, “All right then, I guess we’re traveling together, Benito”.

 

Benito cawed—in what Havel assumed to be excitement—and flew over to the coffin, pecking its cover.

 

Havel turned back to Nito, bowing deeply, “It was…good to see you my Lord”.

 

Nito nodded his many heads, **“And you as well Havel. Take care that you don’t go mad, well, madder than you are now”**.

 

Havel chuckled darkly, “Until we meet again, Gravelord”. He walked over to the coffin, climbing inside, Benito flying in and resting on top of him.

 

A large skeleton formed near the coffin, closing it up. A red portal formed from the ground, and the skeleton pushed the coffin through it, disappearing along with it.

 

Nito sighed deeply, and turned to face his own coffin.

 

A yellow light caught his eye.

 

Paladin Leeroy rushed forward, and dropped to his knee, “Lord Nito,” he panted, “I have news. This man, a sorcerer I believe, he-”

 

 **“Ended that pitiful necromancer, did he?”** Nito nestled into his coffin, **“It was bound to happen eventually”**.

 

“No my Lord,” Leeroy shook his head fervently, “He…struck a deal with the creature”.

 

Nito froze. He slowly pulled himself up, staring at Leeroy, **“‘Struck a deal’?”**

 

“Yes my Lord”.

 

After a moment of silence, Nito let out a small chuckle, which became louder and louder, until uproarious laughter echoed throughout the cavern.

 

Leeroy looked on in confusion, “My Lord?”

 

Nito gradually stopped his laughter, and began strumming his fingers on his blade, **“This one is most certainly interesting!”**

 

**A/N: And done! Chapter’s a bit longer than what I usually type-up for this story, hope it becomes the average (it probably won’t though…). As always, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20:

Trappings

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Havel growled in frustration, glaring at the demonic amalgamation of bone and wheel pounding against his shield.

 

When he felt the skeleton stop its assault, he shoved his shield forward, knocking the monster onto its…spokes…before crashing his hammer down on it, grinding it into powder.

 

He shifted his eyes to his left, idly noting Vince, Nico, and Petrus standing guard in front of Rhea, while she cast healing spells and other such miracles, the three men attacking any wheel skeleton that headed their way.

 

On the other side, his actual companions took a greater initiative.

 

Beatrice, Solaire, Siegmeyer, and Oscar dashed around, landing any hits they could on the skeletons—Solaire, Oscar, and Beatrice all tried to attack their foes from a range, but the former two were largely unsuccessful, and Beatrice’s attacks (which could track) didn’t seem to do much damage.

 

After a momentary lull in action, an idea struck Siegmeyer, “Prepare yourselves, friends!” Before anyone could ask what he meant, Siegmeyer dashed forward into a largely empty space.

 

“C’mon you dastardly beings!” Siegmeyer yelled, waving his sword above his head, “Strike me down if you dare!”

 

Three of the skeletal beings swiveled towards him, and with an almost choreographed grace, rolled towards the Catarinanan knight.

 

He looked at his left hand, clutching his old, sadly underused talisman tightly. As the three skeletons grew closer, he stuck his blade in the ground, and then crossed his arms in front of him.

 

He waited, longer than necessary perhaps, and muttered a quick prayer to the gods. As the skeletons neared him, he swiftly uncrossed his arms, a large shockwave rippling through the air around him. The blast knocked the nearby skeletons on their sides.

 

While Siegmeyer picked his sword up, Oscar, Solaire, and Beatrice shot their respective projectiles at the downed monsters. Two of them shattered, and the last one slowly got up, before Siegmeyer’s blade crashed through its body, obliterating it.

 

Siegmeyer hummed to himself, pleased that his plan went off smoothly.

 

He heard a sharp caw just overhead, and looked up to see Benito fly down.

 

With a smile, Siegmeyer held out his hand for Benito to land on, which the bird did.

 

He scratched the small raven’s left wing.

 

Siegmeyer smiled as it preened, “Aren’t you just adorable…Lin would love you”.

 

Benito, looking pleased with Siegmeyer’s statement, cawed lightly, before flying over to Havel, landing on the crest of his helmet.

 

He walked towards his friends. When he saw Beatrice frown, he frowned in turn, “What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

Solaire walked forward, patting Siegmeyer on the shoulder, “…A bit of warning before you go ahead and do those things would be appreciated”.

 

Siegmeyer grunted, “But I did warn you”.

 

Solaire held up a finger, before letting it drop. He turned back to his friends, “He has a point”.

 

Beatrice ran a hand down her face, muttering to herself. Oscar just sighed, and turned around, gesturing to Havel and the clerics that they were moving ahead.

 

When they all caught up with each other, Petrus looked up, “This is certainly a large area…Perhaps we should try and find some sort of passageway, to circumvent a few areas?”

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Are you implying we should climb?”

 

Petrus shrugged.

 

Oscar clicked his tongue, “That doesn’t seem very safe…after all, most of us are wearing heavy armor. A misstep could kill us, set us back by hours”.

 

“Besides,” Havel said, “Garret should be just ahead”.

 

“Are you sure?” Vince asked, “He might have died?”

 

Oscar shook his head, “If he had, then all the monsters we’d killed would have come back to life—how does that work anyway?” He turned to his companions, “Any ideas?” he asked as he walked ahead.

 

Beatrice shrugged, “Search me. I never had the chance to study how the bonfires worked”.

 

“I blame the curse,” Havel growled.

 

Siegmeyer titled his head, “That’s a bit simple, isn’t it?”

 

“Nothing about our situation is ‘simple’ Siegmeyer,” Solaire said with a laugh.

 

The clerics eyed the group, marveling at the nonchalant atmosphere, before walking forward.

 

They followed continued down the path, when they stopped in front of a giant, open coffin.

 

Beatrice whistled, “Geez…what’s _that_ supposed to hold?”

 

“It was a mass grave,” Havel suddenly said in a somber tone. “After the war died down and we started to bury our dead we…we ran out of space in the ‘normal’ catacombs,” He sighed heavily.

 

Benito floated down to Havel’s shoulder, rubbing his head against Havel’s helm in a comforting manner. Havel reciprocated by scratching Benito under his chin.

 

Rhea looked at the coffin nervously “P-perhaps we should find another way around?”

 

“I agr-”

 

“Don’t bother,” Havel interrupted Petrus, “It’d just be a waste of time. Best way through is forward”. With that said, Havel hopped into the coffin—to the indignation of Benito, who flapped awkwardly in the air for a few seconds after Havel’s sudden drop, before falling himself. Havel’s companions followed shortly after (though Siegmeyer did look back at the clerics, offering a small shrug).

 

Oscar let out a small grunt when he landed, cocking a brow at the skeletons and candles hanging from the ceiling. He walked forward, wondering just what the hell might have lived here.

 

“YAH!” Oscar heard a thud behind him.

 

“M’lady!” he heard Vince yell behind him.

 

Oscar idly heard Beatrice scoff, and mutter, “I doubt even Dusk is this fragile”.

 

“Be nice,” Havel muttered back.

 

Siegmeyer picked up a couple books, “I must say, this is quite an impressive collection”.

 

“You think this is neat,” everyone jumped at the sudden voice, “Just wait ‘till we get to Seath’s place”.

 

Havel growled, “I’ve been there, it isn’t impressive”.

 

“Well I think its safe to say you have a biased opinion,” Garret’s voice sounded once again.

 

Beatrice frowned, spinning around, “Where are you?”

 

“In the pile”.

 

Everyone turned towards the large pile of books in the back of the coffin, wearing varying ranges of surprise when Garret emerged from the pile.

 

Garret flipped a book up in the air. “There’s actually some pretty interesting stuff in these things”. He grimaced, “Dark, gruesome stuff,” he tossed the book back in the pile, “but interesting nonetheless”.

 

Garret clapped his hands, walking forward, “So, how’s everyone d—the hell is that?” He pointed wide-eyed at Benito, who chose at that moment to fly over from Havel’s shoulder onto the accusing finger.

 

Garret’s mouth grew into a very thin line.

 

Havel sighed, “A crow named Benito”.

 

Garret gulped, audibly, before blinking, “Wait, did you just say Be _nito_?”

 

“Yes,” Havel said with a sigh.

 

“So…” Garret looked down at the tiny bird—which stared back with his beady eyes—and said, “You…found him?”

 

“Yes,” Solaire answered for Havel, “Though Havel won’t tell us where”.

 

“I told you,” Havel said exasperatedly, “In a coffin”.

 

“There are hundreds of coffins,” Beatrice chimed in.

 

“Excuse me!” Everyone turned their gazes to Vince, stared tiredly at Garret and his friends, “Not that I don’t appreciate the break, but shouldn’t we discuss our next move?”

 

Garret shooed Benito off his hand—and then smirked when the bird settled onto his shoulder. He cocked a brow at their damaged attire. “What happened to you guys?”

 

Vince winced, “We had a run-in with a Black Knight”.

 

Garret looked at the others, “You all don’t look damaged”.

 

Petrus sighed, “Milady and her companions were unfortunate enough to fall directly onto the knight. They…almost…died”.

 

Garret hummed, turning towards Solaire. “I thought you guys made sure they were behind you at all times?” he whispered harshly.

 

Solaire clicked his tongue, “They were struck with a sudden inspiration to lead the group. Rather admirable of them, under normal circumstances at any rate”.

 

Garret sighed, turning back to Rhea, Vince, and Nico, “…Maybe you guys should head back”.

 

Rhea shook her head, leaning on a wall, “We must continue, for the sake of our mission”.

 

Garret shrugged with a hum, “Or you guys could rest back up at the shrine, ever think of that?”

 

Nico, who was leaning on his weapon, growled, shaking his head.

 

Havel crossed his arms, “Garret has a point,” he gestured to the three young clerics, “None of you look like you can move forward”.

 

Petrus frowned heavily, “But we really must move on”.

 

Solaire hummed, “Well, some of us could go with them back to the shrine, and the rest could scout the area ahead”.

 

Oscar nodded, “That seems wise”.

 

Garret shot his hand up, “I volunteer!”.

 

Havel hefted his hammer on his shoulder, “I shall go with you”, He looked over his shoulder, “Petrus, you should join us”.

 

Petrus coughed into his hand “I believe it would be best if I-”

 

“Oh come now!” Siegmeyer walked over to pat the cleric (hard) on the shoulder, “It is not as though you aren’t in good hands”.

 

Petrus winced, moving away from Siegmeyer, “Still, I don’t think it would be right to abandon my fellow clerics”.

 

“Nonsense,” Havel said. “You’re not abandoning them, merely making sure they do not get themselves needlessly killed”.

 

“So we’re decided!” Garret clapped his hands, “You guys just homeward bone back to Firelink; Petrus, Havel and I-”

 

There was an indignant caw.

 

“And Benito, will scout ahead, then grab you guys when we have more info”.

 

Rhea was still hesitant.

 

After a moment, Havel walked over to the young girl, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, “No benefits would come from you pushing yourselves,” he turned his gaze to Vince and Nico, “Any of you”.

 

Rhea, shyly, bowed, “As you request, Bishop Havel”.

 

With a kind grunt, Havel backed away, letting Rhea go to her companions. She turned around, sending a small smile to Petrus and Garret, “Stay safe, both of you”. With that, Vince pulled out a bone. Rhea and Nico placed their hands on his shoulder, and in a flash of yellow light, vanished.

 

Beatrice, after the light completely vanished, turned to Garret and Havel, “So, now we move on, right?”

 

Havel shook his head, “No”.

 

Beatrice frowned, “Why not?”

 

“The area was insane enough to navigate back in my day. Even then, anymore than a group of three, someone was liable to either get lost, or trip and tumble”.

 

Beatrice huffed, but with a reassuring nod from Garret, accepted.

 

She walked over to Siegmeyer, Solaire, and Oscar, the latter already holding a bone in hand.

 

Havel poked Benito, and gestured to the group, “You should go with them, Benito, get some fresh air”.

 

The bird trilled lightly, and flew over the group, landing on Beatrice’s hat.

 

The three knights, witch, and crow then disappeared in a yellow light.

 

Garret swiftly turned on his heel to look at Petrus, he pointed to the ladder. “After you, Petrus”.

 

Petrus grumbled lightly, but walked over the ladder regardless.

 

Garret walked forward, but was stopped when Havel placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

Garret looked over at the Bishop, eyes alight with concern, “…You doing okay?”

 

Havel sighed deeply, “We’ll speak about it later. Thank you, though, for trying to spare me”.

 

Garret smiled bitterly, “Well, maybe when this,” he gestured towards Petrus, who was halfway up the ladder, “Is over, we can talk about it all”.

 

“That…would not be unwelcome”. Havel moved forward. “Oh,” he turned around, “I also got that sword you wanted”.

 

Garret grinned widely, “Awesome!” He danced in place a bit. “Can’t wait to use it!” He then frowned, “First things first though”.

 

Havel nodded gravely, “Right”. He dug into his satchel, “Assuming things haven’t changed in the passing millennia, it should be extraordinarily dark in there,” Havel then pulled a blackened skull, with long, dark hair flowing into a braid from the top of it.

 

Garret smirked, “Oh, good, you guys did grab one of those. But,” Garret took out his catalyst, waving it in the air, summoning a bright, yellow orb, “Dusk taught me a few tricks”.

 

Havel grunted, turning to the ladder, “Impressive, that means you can lead”.

 

Garret spluttered lightly, before falling to a begrudging silence.

 

Garret quickly climbed up the ladder, scrunching his nose up when he reached the top. “Ugh,” he gagged, “Its really humid here!”

 

“That would be due to Izalith’s lava pools…I wonder if anyone ever figured out a way to deal with the heat?”

 

“Ehh, sort of,” Garret said. He looked over to Petrus, “How you holding up”.

 

Petrus crossed his arms, “The sooner we get this over with, the better,” he grumbled.

 

Garret arched his back, “You’re telling me”. He let out a breath, “Well, might as well start by following that path of light”.

 

Havel grunted, walking forward, “Wonder how long this has been here?”

 

Garret arched a brow, “That’s actually a pretty good question. Any ideas, Petrus?”

 

Petrus grunted “No,” and walked forward.

 

Havel hummed, staring at the cleric, “Truly”.

 

“Yes”.

 

“There have been no other clerics searching for the Rite?”

 

Petrus stilled. “…I never met any ,” he answered after a moment, and continued forward.

 

Garret and Havel exchanged a look, before walking forward as well.

 

After carefully following the path (with the help of the lantern and Garret’s spell) they came upon the lid of a large coffin, acting as a bridge over a small gap.

 

Garret tapped the lid with his foot, “Pretty stable,” he said appreciatively, “Gotta wonder who put this here, though”.

 

Petrus growled lowly, “Never mind that, look”. The cleric pointed ahead, towards the barely visible eyes of some unseen foe.

 

“Really Nito, you had to disturb _these_ bodies,” Havel muttered darkly.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing, Garret,” Havel brushed past the cleric and sorcerer, “Petrus, stand behind me, heal me as needed. Garret, pepper the enemy from behind”. Havel looked over his shoulder, “We’ll keep this formation as we continue on our way”.

 

Petrus frowned lightly, while Garret smirked coolly.

 

**Line Break**

 

Petrus scowled heavily as Havel lead them further down into the depths of the catacombs. The further, he went down with Havel and that foolish sorcerer, the less likely it would be that he could complete his true holy mission.

 

Petrus allowed himself a small smirk. ‘Holy’, that was a laugh. Very little about the church was truly holy anymore, otherwise he would be out of a job.

 

He carefully looked behind him, glaring at Garret (not that the young man could tell). “ _Perhaps I can trap him under some boulders, or seal him in a tomb”_.

 

Petrus shook his head, _“But that still leaves Bishop Havel…perhaps he could be persuaded to join my cause?”_

 

“I see a ladder just ahead,” Havel said, breaking Petrus from his inner thoughts. Havel moved the lantern forward, “…And I believe I see a bonfire”.

 

“Good,” Garret said, “My feet are getting sore”.

 

Petrus clenched his jaw, _“At least I’ll have a place to think”_.

 

He slid down after Havel, resting next to him. Thankfully, Garret decided to be silent, giving Petrus much needed silence to formulate a proper plan.

 

He turned his mace over in his dominant hand, _“How to get rid of Garret?...I believe that thief has made this place his dwelling…Yes, he could certainly be of use”._

 

Petrus heard Havel’s armor clank beside him, “Time to head out,” the Bishop said, as he followed Garret up the ladder.

 

Petrus sighed heavily, holstering his mace. He quickly made his way up the ladder, trying to recall where that thief set up shop.

 

Petrus scowled as he reached the top of the ladder, for the life of him he could not remember where that damn thief liked to lie in wait.

 

When he finished climbing, he scanned the area, frowning at the fact that he lost sight of Havel and Garret.

 

Petrus heard movement to his left, and turned his head to see what it was.

 

Then, something swiftly hit him in the ribs, sending him flying over the edge.

 

**Line Break**

 

Petrus groaned loudly, clutching his head. After his initial haze faded out, he realized someone shoved him over the edge.

 

He cursed, slamming his fist into the ground beside him. _“That damn thief! Thought I was some sort of mark?! I’ll make him pay!”_

 

Petrus pulled out one of his humanity sprites, using it to return to his human form.

 

  He walked over to the ladder, and growled lowly when he saw that the ramshackle structure was removed its place.

 

_“I suppose this is his newest con…”_

 

“Bishop Havel!” Petrus called out, “I seem to be in a bit of a bind. Might you assist a fellow man of the gods?”

 

Petrus heard footsteps overhead.

 

“Bishop Havel?”

 

Garret’s smiling face poked over the edge, “Hey Petrus! How’d this happen?”

 

Petrus tried not to let his face fall. “Oh, Garret…” he sighed, “Someone shoved me over the cliff, and evidently thought it funny to get rid of the ladder leading back up”.

 

Garret hummed, “That does sound troublesome”.

 

Petrus’s eye twitched at the nonchalant tone, “Indeed. Do you see the ladder anywhere”.

 

Garret looked over his shoulders, “…No, outta luck”.

 

Petrus pinched the bridge of his nose, “Of course, why did I expect otherwise?” He spared Garret a glance, “I don’t suppose you have a way to help me up?”

 

Garret rummaged through his satchel, “I’ve got some rope,” he said, pulling the item out.

 

Petrus sighed in relief, “Well, set it up then”.

 

Garret set the rope aside, “Sure, sure, I…I just have one question to ask you”.

 

Petrus groaned lightly, “What? Just set up the ro-”

 

“Why do you dislike Rhea?”

 

Petrus’s voice caught in his throat.

 

“I mean,” Garret continued, “Sure she’s more green than a blade of grass, can barely go thirty feet without a break, and she just will not shut up about the gods”.

 

After a brief, tense silence, Petrus snorted, “I think you have a firm grasp as to why anyone might find her annoying”.

 

Garret chuckled, “Fair enough”. He tossed the bundle of rope in the air slightly, “And to think, you might be stuck here with her right now”. Garret scoffed, “Can you imagine what she would say,” he cleared his throat, “‘Sir Petrus’,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “‘Fret not, for I am assured that even now the gods watch over you, and are sympathetic to your plight’!”

 

Despite himself, Petrus sniggered, “She would say that, wouldn’t she?”

 

Garret giggled along with the cleric. “Of course,” he said as their laughter began to subside, “that doesn’t mean its right for you to kill her and her friends”.

 

Petrus froze. He slowly turned towards Garret, a small glare on his face,

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean”.

 

“Now don’t get me wrong,” Garret said as he sprawled near the edge of the cliff, “It really is an ingenious plan, what the church cooked up”.

 

He reached into his satchel, pulling out a red, glowing…shape, “You guys know that the Rite of Kindling—this thing,” Petrus gasped lightly, “in case you’re wondering—was somewhere here, but you also didn’t care enough to send expend any manpower after Leeroy disappeared. And then the Undead curse becomes an actual problem, infecting a lot of holy men and women, and suddenly, a solution”. Garret clenched his fist, causing the Rite to disappear. “Send those unfortunate souls here to die, and leave only a single person to make sure the job gets done”.

 

Garret smirked down at Petrus, “Still, you got the shaft big time”.

 

Petrus’s glare darkened, “You have no idea what you’re speaking of”.

 

Garret’s eyes flashed red, a wide grin worming its way onto his face, “I think I have a pretty clear picture, actually”.

 

He stood up, “Enjoy rotting down here Petrus. I’ll be sure to loot your corpse of its valuables when next we meet”.

 

Petrus had had enough, “You come back here you miserable heathen! Don’t you dare ignore me! I am a man of the gods! This transgression shall not be-AGH!”

 

Garret smirked as he lobbed another firebomb at Petrus, taking satisfaction when the burning man stumbled over the edge of the cliff he was on.

 

With a satisfied sigh, Garret jauntily marched to where Havel and Patches were waiting for him.

 

Patches, who paled with every other word of Petrus’s and Garret’s conversation, shuddered, “I don’t know what’s more horrifying, that scheme Garret was talking about, or Petrus’s screams”.

 

Havel grunted, “Coming from a thief that likes to leave people in holes”.

 

“Oi!” Patches squawked indignantly, “I never took an oath to the gods, I have an excuse”.

 

“That’s not how it works”.

 

“Hey boys!” Patches hopped slightly in the air, “Ready for the final phase of my brilliant plan?”

 

Havel groaned, “Let’s just wrap this up quickly”.

 

 **A/N: I know this took a while to come out. My only excuse for the long delay is the fact that I got very sick the last week of December (when I originally planned to upload this), and it persisted until a few days ago. Anyway, enjoy! Be sure to leave a review. Later.**  


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21:

Mission Accomplished

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Patches grunted as he pushed a small boulder aside, revealing a small hole, “So,” he panted, “I found these little beauties a little after I was dumped here”. He scratched his nose, “No idea who made ‘em, or why, but they’re all over the catacombs”.

 

Garret bent down, staring at the hole, which widened as it went deeper into the wall. “Hmm,” he looked over his shoulder, “Any ideas, Havel?”

 

Havel hummed, “…I think those tunnels were used by Lord Nito’s servants in the old days”.

 

Patches frowned, “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, before everything went to shit, Lord Nito and his followers perserved these graves,” he gestured around them, “And you’ve seen how insane it is to move around”.

 

Garret nodded, “So he devised a series of tunnels to make his servants’ tasks that much easier. Smart”.

 

Patches clapped his hands, “Right! Well, I can certainly lead you,” he pointed to Garret, “Back to that Vamos fellow,” he turned to Havel, “You though…”

 

Havel waved his hand, “I’m too large, I know,” he pulled out a homeward bone; “Let’s just get this over with”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Dusk wrung her hands tightly, “Are you sure they are okay?”

 

Solaire gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder (before taking a quick swig of Estus) “I’m sure they are fine— _although I am beginning to regret summoning you here, if only because of how worried you look_ ”.

 

Beatrice scowled, “We shouldn’t have let them leave on their own”.

 

Rhea shook her head, “Miss Beatrice, we were too injured, we would not have been of much use”.

 

Beatrice sharply turned to look at the priestess, “What do you mean ‘we’?”

 

Siegmeyer cleared his throat, “Now, now, I think it would be best if we all just calmed down”.

 

“Oh, I’m perfectly calm”.

 

“Perhaps if you took a moment to pray”.

 

Siegmeyer grunted as he gently grabbed Beatrice, holding her back.

 

“My dear,” Solaire called out to Rhea, “you are not helping matters”.

 

Oscar looked to his left when a long, suffering sigh caught his attention, “Something the matter”.

 

The apathetic knight scowled slightly, “…You couldn’t have brought them all somewhere else?”

 

Oscar shrugged, “This is the most safe place”.

 

The knight’s scowl deepened, “With how many of you there are, I doubt there isn’t any place that isn’t safe”.

 

“…Well, my sister is the Firekeeper for this bonfire”.

 

“Oh right,” he rolled his eyes, resting his face on his hands, “Lucky me”.

 

Oscar grunted, “It’s not like we spend all our time here”.

 

“No,” the knight conceded. He then glared at the Beatrice and Rhea, the former actually managing to move towards the latter despite being held back by a stout Catarinan, “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it”.

 

Griggs did his best to ignore the bickering women just down the dilapidated stairs. He turned to Laurentius—whom he was making an effort to get to know, being the only other magic-user that stayed at Firelink. “So, who taught you Pyromancy?”

 

The Pyromancer cleared his throat, “W-well, Master Salaman was the one who introduced me to the arts”.

 

Griggs hummed, “I believe I’ve heard Master Logan speak of him”.

 

Laurentius snorted, “Nothing good I suppose”.

 

Griggs shook his head, “No, actually,” when Laurentius looked at the sorcerer, he shrugged, “He didn’t have much to say, but he told me he found the man to be very fascinating, and if he wasn’t already devoted to the mysteries of sorcery, he would have loved to travel with the man”.

 

Laurentius smiled softly, “Master never did stay in one place for long”.

 

Griggs opened his mouth to respond, but snapped it shut as loud splashes caught his attention.

 

Laurentius heard it as well, “Well, they’ll be happy to know that they returned”.

 

Griggs nodded silently, but gaped as he say the state of the man that walked by.

 

By the bonfire, Solaire heard heavy footfalls. He turned around, “Ah, th—By the sun!”

 

Everyone turned, staring wide-eyed at Havel.

 

He looked terrible. His armor was burned, and fragments of bone caught in between the stone plates or his armor. His shield had several old, rusted swords sunk in it. The head of his hammer had bits of skulls and ribs hanging off.

 

Beatrice pushed past Siegmeyer, running up to Havel, “What…?”

 

Havel grunted, “Ran into more trouble than expected”.

 

Dusk swallowed nervously, looking past Havel.

 

“Don’t bother,” the bishop stated suddenly. He sat down in front of the bonfire; “I lost contact with Petrus and Garret after we were ambushed”.

 

Solaire, Oscar, and Siegmeyer exchanged looks. “What ambush?” Oscar asked.

 

“A bunch of corpses raised by whatever had its grip on your artifact,” he said, gesturing to the clerics.

 

Vince grimaced, “W-what happened to Petrus and Garret?”

 

Havel grunted, dusting of his hammer, “Don’t know. Got separated and pushed down a cliff. Must have killed thirty of the things before reinforcements stopped coming. Tried to climb up, but the Cliffside couldn’t support my weight. I used a homeward bone to escape”.

 

Dusk gripped the hem of her dress, “And what of Garret?”

 

“And Petrus,” Rhea added.

 

Havel shrugged, setting his hammer aside, “If they haven’t arrived, I’d say they’re still down there”.

 

Vince grabbed his weapon, “Then we have to rescue them!”

 

“Don’t be stupid, boy!” Havel growled, “The last thing we need is more people bumbling around the catacombs”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Then what do you recommend we do?”

 

“Garret’s a resourceful young man,” Havel rested a hand under his chin, “He’ll think of something clever”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“So, did you just stick bones on your lower jaw, are you’re osteoblasts working overtime?”

 

“Ostewhat?”

 

“Cells in the body in charge of bone growth,” Garret said without looking back.

 

“Ah,” Patches hummed, “I still don’t get it”.

 

“Neither do I,” Vamos grumbled as he hammered away at a piece of metal, “and I don’t really care”.

 

“But you’ve got to be curious?”

 

“I’ve got my craft, it’s all I need,” he looked over his shoulder, “And I thought you said you had something for me?”

 

Garret frowned slightly, “I don’t have it on me, but I know where it can be found”.

 

Vamos nodded, “Well, you can get back to me when you’ve found it”.

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah, sure. By the way, you want to get out of here?”

 

Vamos stopped his work, turning around fully. He eyed Garret; “…You know I’m a skeleton, right?”

 

Garret scrunched his face, before his eyebrows shot up to his forehead, “Oh, god no!” he chose to ignore Patches snickering in the background, “I mean out of these catacombs”.

 

“You’ve got a place in mind?”

 

“I know another blacksmith who—”

 

“Not happening,” Vamos started to hammer once more.

 

“What?” Garret asked nonplussed.

 

“Ever heard of the phrase ‘too many cooks ruin the soup’? Besides, I work best with an active pool of lava”.

 

Garret bit his lip, “…Can you at least consider the possibility of moving? This,” he gestured to the surroundings, “Is terribly inconvenient, you’ve got to admit”.

 

Vamos grunted, “Bring that ember, then we’ll talk”.

 

Garret nodded, “Fair enough. One last thing, though,” Vamos merely grunted, “Can I dip my clothes in one of your lava pools?”

 

Vamos slammed his hammer directly on the anvil, a harsh, loud clang reverberating through the room, his bones rattling due to the force.

 

“Why would you…Actually, never mind, I don’t want to know”.

 

Garret looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, “Aw, you’re learning”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret gave himself a once over, “Does it look convincing?”

 

Patches groaned, “Yes, you look like you’ve been through hell”. He then brushed his hand over his tunic, which had deep gashes running along it, “But did you have to ruin my armor as well?”

 

Garret smirked, “You’re supposed to have lead me to safety, and unless you have precognition, you’ll have gotten hit”.

 

Patches still grumbled.

 

“You could have died saving me”.

 

The grumbling stopped.

 

“Now come on, we’ve got a bit of a show to put on”.

 

Patches slumped his shoulders, but followed regardless.

 

After crossing the water filled floor, Garret took a moment to shake the wetness from his boots.

 

“Garret!”

 

Garret smiled softly as multiple heads whipped around. He waved, “Hey guys”.

 

Griggs and Laurentius (being the closest) were the first ones to walk over. “By the gods,” Griggs said, looking over his fellow sorcerer, “What happened to you?”

 

Garret shifted his gaze downwards, “That’s…a bit of a tale”.

 

By then the rest of his friends (and the clerics from Thorolund) had made it over.

 

Dusk covered her mouth with her hands, gasping, “What on earth?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Yeah, not the best time I’ve ever had”.

 

Beatrice (who also had a stricken expression plastered on her face) noticed someone trudging behind Garret. She narrowed her eyes slightly, “You?”

 

Patches cleared his throat, “H-Hello all”.

 

Rhea, Vince, and Nico looked past Garret and Patches, “Where is Petrus?” Rhea finally asked.

 

Patches wrung his hands while Garret stared at the ground. “Oh, right. Terrible shame what happened to him,” the thief softly stated.

 

Rhea grimaced, “W-what happened?”

 

With a sigh, Garret brushed past his friends, sitting down in front of the bonfire. Patches chose to lean against a wall.

 

Garret pulled out his repairbox, “I assume Havel told you how we were ambushed?”

 

Several nods.

 

“Right, well,” Garret let out a sigh as his armor returned to its normal state, “Petrus and I immediately ran for a wall, try and give us some breathing room, you know? Anyway, Petrus took the role of support, I did my best to take out the necromancers—we’re low on firebombs by the way, might want to look into that”.

 

“Anyway, then this giant skeleton—well, it wasn’t really a skeleton, more like a really bony corpse—charged through the ranks. Petrus and me dodged out of the way, and we both went for its knees. It roared, actually moved my armor a bit from the force of it, and I shoved a few firebombs down its throat”.

 

Garret picked through his satchel, “Dropped this, after the explosion blew out its throat” Garret removed his hand, revealing a black and red thing, which seemed to look like a hunched over human.

 

Vince, Nico, and Rhea immediately crowded around Garret, undisguised awe on their faces.

 

Oscar blinked, “Is that…?”

 

Garret shrugged, handing it over to Rhea, who held the item with trembling hands, “Petrus seemed to think so”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “What happened to Petrus, though,” he gestured to Patches, “And how did you two meet up?”

 

Garret grimaced, “Well, after grabbing this, Petrus and me decided that it might be a good idea to run. I started to rummage through my satchel, for a homeward bone, when I got hit in the head by something”.

 

“It was a bunch of rocks a couple of arrows knocked loose”.

 

Garret nodded, “You want to take over?”

 

Patches grunted, “Seeing as how you were knocked out, sure”.

 

Patches squatted across the group, the shadows of the bonfire flickering across his body.

 

“Well, I was just doing what I always do; roaming around, scrounging up loot for my shop”.

 

“Your shop?”

 

Patches smirked at Beatrice, “‘Patches’ Trusty Trove of Treasures’, here for all your undead needs!”

 

Havel growled lowly.

 

Patches paled, loosening his collar, “Moving on…I heard all the commotion, but didn’t think anything of it. The dead are particularly restless that deep in the catacombs, infighting I suppose. But then I heard a massive explosion, and I knew that there were actual people there”.

 

“I ran as fast as I could to see if there was anything left worth saving, and low and behold, a cleric and sorcerer were standing above a burning corpse, just down a cliff. And then massive arrows hit just above them, a bunch of a rocks falling onto his,” he gestured to Garret “head, knocking him out cold”.

 

Patches sighed, “I rushed over to an outcrop just above the two, tossing a rope—along with a few firebombs at the monsters for good measure—down. I yelled down, ‘Hurry up mate! Grab you’re friend and I’ll pull you up!’” A smirk ghosted its way onto his face, “Then, that cleric surprised me. He used that weird miracle—the one that pushes everyone back—and tied up Garret with the rope. He then shoves a bone and that red thing into Garret’s hands, and tells me to pull…I didn’t think twice”.

 

All were silent as Patches finished the tale.

 

A chuckle then broke the hush, “Well what do you know, it really does exist…still, and all this does is prove how useless you clerics are”.

 

Vince glared at the ever-smirking, apathetic knight; “Petrus gave his life for this!”

 

The knight nodded, “As did all those poor fools sent by the church, but who actually brought it back? An insane sorcerer and a shady salesman, along with the former’s friends, of course,” he chuckled once more, “Hell, they probably could have done it a lot faster, with no casualties, if they didn’t have to babysit you lot”.

 

Vince and Nico shot up, gripping their weapons.

 

“Oh,” the knight grinned lowly, “Going to prove your worth by attacking a man with an opinion?”

 

“Vince, Nico, stop!” Rhea shouted.

 

The two young men looked back, bewildered, “He’s blaspheming the church, our contemporaries!”

 

Rhea took a shuddering breath, “…And he may have a point”.

 

Thirteen heads snapped towards Rhea. Dusk cleared her throat, “Miss Rhea, I believe you are being too hard on yourself”.

 

“No princess,” Rhea shook her head, “I am not”. Rhea held her hands out towards Garret, “Please, Garret, take it. We are not worthy”.

 

Garret moved his eyes between the rite and Rhea. He gulped, “…You sure?”

 

Rhea grabbed his hand, putting the Rite in his palm. “I’m sure,” she said with a soft smile. She stood up, walking away.

 

Havel grunted, “Where are you going?”

 

Rhea stopped, turning to face the bishop. “…I am not fit for the rigors of this land, I can admit that. But I…I do want to live, beyond this curse, go back to Thorolund. Until such a time comes, I shall be in the parish above, praying for the souls of my fellow clerics, alive and dead”.

 

She bowed deeply, “It was a pleasure, and I’m sure we shall meet again”.

 

She marched for the elevators once more, stopping only to allow Vince and Nico to catch up (the two young men offering their own temporary good-byes as they passed the group).

 

After the trio left, the knight sighed, “That’s three gone, thankfully”.

 

“I think you mean four,” Patches said.

 

The knight narrowed his eyes, “The big one’s death is cancelled out by your arrival”.

 

**A/N: And done. Shorter than the last couple of chapters, but hey, what’ll you do. At least the escort mission is done with. On to the depths! The rat-infested, basilisk crawling, pus filled depths (and Domnhall). Along with the (technical) introduction of one of the sadder storylines the Dark Souls series has to offer. Be sure to leave a review. Later**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22:

Wonderful Smells

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Garret leaned his head back, idly listening the multiple conversations occurring around him—smirking as Benito (who was most likely feeding during Garret’s little show, given the dried blood flecking his feathers) squawked at various people.

 

“Hey Laurentius, how powerful is that Flame of yours?” Garret asked with closed eyes.

 

Laurentius frowned, turning away from Griggs and Dusk, “Uh, I’ve upgraded it five times...plus master’s original three”.

 

Garret cracked an eye open, “And you’re fine with just that?”

 

Laurentius shrugged, “I haven’t really had the time to gather enough souls, and I ran out of Fire Seeds just before I got sent here”.

 

Garret straightened, “‘Fire Seeds’?”

 

Laurentius nodded, “Yeah. They’re what we used to upgrade our flames before it was discovered that souls could do the same. Certainly helps, since the original plant is only found in the Great Swamp”.

 

Garret frowned thoughtfully, “Huh, neat. Anyway,” he brought out a handful of undead souls clusters, “Here’s a ton of souls, for you and me”.

 

Laurentius eyed the ‘solid’ souls, “Are you sure?”

 

Garret smiled, “Positive”.

 

Laurentius took the souls, a soft smile on his face, “Thanks, friend”. He then crushed the souls, wincing at the sound of multiple pieces of glass breaking. He then got to work, upgrading his and Garret’s Flames.

 

When he finished, Garret flexed his palm, smirking at the larger flame flickering atop it, “Oh, that feels nice”.

 

Laurentius frowned slightly, “Yes, well, take care not get too comfortable, it’s still fire”.

 

Garret’s smile curved downward, turning to a very heavy frown. “Oh, believe me Laurentius, I definitely fear fire,” he pushed thoughts of the Kiln from his mind, “Doesn’t mean I won’t take advantage of an opportunity when I see it”.

 

“Garret,” the sorcerer and pyromancer turned, seeing Havel walk over, “I need to talk to you”.

 

Garret shrugged, patting the ground next to him.

 

Havel placed his weapon and shield down beside him, sitting down. He then turned to face Laurentius, silent.

 

The Pyromancer’s eyes widened, “Oh! You want a private conversation, got it,” he gestured behind him, “I’ll be over there”.

 

Havel grunted as the Pyromancer walked away, and then smiled when Benito flew over, landing on Garret’s head.

 

Garret, choosing to ignore the bird, turned to Havel, “What’s up?”

 

Havel sighed deeply, “…Do you plan on seeing this through to the end?”

 

Garret’s face fell. He gulped, “Yeah”.

 

“Truly?”

 

Garret was silent. Benito, sensing the somber mood, hopped down to Garret’s shoulder, rubbing against the young man’s cheek.

 

Garret sighed, petting the bird’s head, “…If anyone’s going to, uh, succeed Gwyn it might as well be the guy who knows exactly what that entails, you know?”

 

Havel growled, “There must be another way”.

 

Garret hung his head low, “Not at this point in time”.

 

Havel grunted, patting Garret on the shoulder, “For what’s its worth, I’m sorry”.

 

Garret smirked, “Don’t be,” he lifted his head up, “It’s my decision. Just, don’t tell the others, don’t want them to freak out”.

 

Havel nodded, then jerked his head over at Laurentius, who had resumed his conversation with Dusk and Griggs, “Who’s he searching for exactly anyway?”

 

“Oh, the Godmother of Pyromancy? You might actually know her”.

 

Havel grunted, “Who?”

 

“Quelana of Izalith” Garret stated.

 

The young man then cried out as two large hands gripped his shoulders, whirling him around to fully face the Bishop.

 

“”Are you certain?! Quelana is alive?!”

 

Garret rolled his shoulders, squirming out of Havel’s iron grip. “Yeah…were you two friends?”

 

Havel merely looked down at his hands, unresponsive.

 

Garret frowned, “Hold on, shouldn’t Nito have told you this? Better yet, why didn’t you ask me about this earlier?”

 

But Havel did not hear Garret, lost in his own memories.

 

**Line Break**

 

Havel looked over the latest note given to him by his lieutenant. He furrowed his brow; Seath was apparently spending a lot of time in the back of his estate, doing something with nefarious, no doubt. He grunted; whatever it was, it wouldn’t matter once the snake died.

 

He then heard a knock on his door, and quickly tossed the letter into his fireplace, “Hello?”

 

“Havel, can we talk?” a feminine voice quietly asked.

 

A soft smile wormed its way onto his face. He walked over to the door, opening it slightly, allowing Quelana to slip inside.

 

Havel gently embraced her, idly noting how her hair smelled like lavender today, “How are you doing?”

 

Quelana wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his broad chest, “I’m well. How are you? Anything special?”

 

Havel frowned, “Finalizing my plans”.

 

Quelana then stepped back, causing Havel’s frown to deepen, “Oh…you were serious”.

 

Havel stared at her, “Of course I was,” he scoffed, “I’m not one to jest”.

 

“Not anymore,” Quelana muttered.

 

Havel stepped closer, cupping her chi and titling her head up, “Don’t worry…this will all be behind us soon”.

 

 

Quelana grabbed Havel’s hand, squeezing it tightly, “It’s not too late to stop this”.

 

Havel clenched his jaw, “He needs to answer for his crimes”.

 

“Perhaps, but—”.

 

“There is no ‘perhaps’ about this,” Havel said, stepping back and gesturing angrily, “He is guilty of…twisting the bodies and minds of innocent humans for his own sick desires!”

 

Quelana gulped, “…There are more important things to work on”.

 

Havel snorted, “Are you speaking of your sister’s plan to form a new Flame? You know Quela’s not going to go through with it”.

 

Quelana nodded, “Just…wait until we’re done, after this problem with the First Flame is behind us. Then you can go through the proper channels and—”.

 

“Damn the proper channels!” Havel slammed his fist against his bedpost, the sudden _boom_ making Quelana yelp, “Gwyn, Nito, even your own mother don’t care about what he’s done, nor what he will continue to do unless he’s stopped”.

 

“By your hand?!”

 

Havel growled, “If there are no others”.

 

Quelana let out a shuddering breath, “Havel…I cannot assist you in this endeavor”.

 

Havel clenched his jaw, “I never expected you to”.

 

Quelana placed a hand on Havel’s shoulder, but when Havel did nothing, she removed it. Holding back a sigh, she walked to the door, pausing underneath the frame, “…I love you, Havel”.

 

Havel looked over his shoulder, a small smile on his face, “And I love you. But…don’t say it with such finality. By this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Havel laughed bitterly as he recalled his last words from that meeting.

 

“Um, hello?” the Bishop looked up, “You doing okay?”

 

“…I don’t know”. He rested his hands on his knees, taking a shallow breath, “To answer your previous questions…Nito only said that Quela and her daughters fell to Chaos, which you yourself already said. And there was something about it being unnatural and blocking his vision. Plus I didn’t want to…verify anything”.

 

“Ignorance is bliss, huh?”

 

“As close as one can get”.

 

“…Do you want to know about…anyone?”

 

Havel nodded, “Nito informed me of Gwyndolin, and what the poor child has had to deal with. I know that Gywnevere abandoned Anor Londo with Flan and everyone else, the cowards,” he added bitterly. He then sighed, “I was also told Artorias, Hawkeye, and Ciaran died around the time Oolacile fell…do you plan on informing Dusk of that?”

 

Garret shifted his gaze over to the cheerful woman, ‘…I have plans in store for that”. He cleared his throat, “Uh, currently…five of Quela’s children still live, and I only know two (maybe three) names, Quelana and Quelaag”.

 

Havel’s eyebrows shot up, “Quelaag, truly?”

 

Garret nodded, “And she’s hanging out with two of her siblings, and, uh, one of them is the boy”.

 

“A son, Quela had a son?” Havel asked incredulously.

 

“Adding that to the mangled timeline,” Garret muttered, “Yeah…he’s in a bad place right now…more on that later…one of the daughters has taken to guarding the demon that was once Quela and…” he tapped his cheek, “Does the name Quelaan mean anything to you?”

 

“Little Quelaan? She’s alive?”

 

“Yeah,” Garret nodded, “She’s hanging out with Quelaag?”

 

“…Wait, really?”

 

Garret frowned, “Yeah…why?”

 

“Well, they hate each other. Have as long as I can remember”.

 

Garret hummed, “You don’t say…well,” he shrugged, “Time can change a lot of things”.

 

“Yes, it certainly can”. Havel forlornly stated as he looked down at the ground.

 

Garret sighed, then placed a hand on the somber warrior, “How about you sit this next trip out?” Havel lifted his head up towards the sorcerer, who continued, “The next area isn’t too difficult given the size of our party, and you look like you could use some time to…reflect, before I go into greater detail”.

 

Havel nodded slowly, “Yes, that might be best”. He then grasped Garret’s arm, shaking it lightly, “Good luck”.

 

Garret smiled, standing up, “Thanks. And you…focus on what you’re going to say to Quelana the next time you meet her”.

 

Havel grunted, a hesitant grimace on his face.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret tapped his foot as he stared down at the dilapidated wall that lead to the alternate entrance to the Depths.

 

“Uh, Garret,” the young man looked over his shoulder, “There’s a hole here, straight down far as I can tell”.

 

Garret nodded at the Catatrinan, “…You guys feel like fighting a giant rat, or living slimes?”

 

Siegmeyer tapped his helmet, “The slimes sound different than what we usually face”.

 

Solaire hummed, “I’m up for the rat”.

 

Beatrice made a disgusted noise, “No thanks on both”.

 

“We’re facing the slime”.

 

Garret chuckled, “Oscar, you’ll have to face that fear of yours eventually”.

 

Oscar nodded, “And I shall face it…later”.

 

Garret looked over to the rest of his group, “Alternate route?”

 

They all shrugged and nodded.

 

“All right,” he then hopped down into the water, “Let’s go”.

 

After leading them through the sewage, Garret pointed to a stairwell, “Now, watch closely,” he then lead them down, pointing to an item resting on a corpse.

 

“Now, follow my finger”. He slowly moved the digit upwards, resting on a pulsating, green-black blob stuck on the ceiling.

 

Solaire gagged, “That—urp—that’s the slime?”

 

Garret nodded, “Uh-uh…Watch this,” he brought his hand down, fire enveloping it. He lopped it at the slime, scoring a direct hit, forcing it to fall down and dissolve into nothing.

 

His friends immediately reared back.

 

“Oh by the gods!”

 

“What was it made out of?!”

 

“It smells worse, how can it smell worse?!”

 

Solaire simply lifted his helm, retching into the water.

 

Garret cocked a brow at his friends as he grabbed the item, “I don’t smell anything,” he then grimaced, “Actually that’s very worrisome”.

 

He pocketed the item, “Tell you what…I’m going to go ahead and clear out all the slimes in the next room. You guys…get used to the smells”.

 

**Line Break**

 

“Why don’t they like me?” Garret said as he banged his head against a nearby wall.

 

“I think you’re exaggerating things, Garret,” Siegmeyer said reassuringly, as he flicked off bits of broken door from his armor.

 

“No, he has a point,” Oscar titled his head, “This is the…second time?”

 

“Fifth. It happened twice in the Asylum and when I ran ahead before we hit the catacombs”.

 

“Well, regardless of…this…what do you have planned, my friend”?

 

Garret rested his head against the wall, pursing his lips, “…Does the name ‘Kirk, Knight of Thorns’ mean anything to you guys”.

 

Beatrice cocked a brow, then looked around to see that the three knights had stilled, a deathly silence in the air. She gulped, “I take it he’s bad news”.

 

Siegmeyer gulped, “One of the most notorious Darkwraiths to ever exist”.

 

“He’s stolen enough Humanity to live for millennia,” Solaire continued with a shiver.

 

Oscar stared long and hard at Garret, “…You’re planning on recruiting him, aren’t you?”

 

Three sets of eyes landed on the young seer, who chuckled sheepishly, “It’s crossed my mind”.

 

Siegmeyer shot up to his feet, “Garret, I am afraid I will have to object”.

 

Garret stared wide-eyed at the large knight, “What?”

 

He shook his head, “I cannot abide traveling with a monstrous Darkwraith”.

 

“Well he’s not a Darkwraith anymore…not sure about the monster thing, but he’s not all that bad”.

 

Siegmeyer crossed his arms, “Oh, pray tell”.

 

“He’s…found himself someone to take care off,” at Siegmeyer’s blank stare, he added, “That’s all I want to say while Havel isn’t around”.

 

Siegmeyer uncrossed his arms, “Very well…I shall trust your judgment on this”.

 

“Thank you,” he then looked over to the others, “Anyone else have anything to say?”

 

No one did.

 

**Line Break**

 

Solaire kicked a rat’s corpse out of his way, “Are you sure you won’t need any help?”

 

Garret nodded, “I’m sure…besides, it’ll be easier to get him to open up if its just me”.

 

Solaire sighed, “Fair enough…I’ll see you further down”.

 

Garret waved good-bye, then stepped forward, feeling a change in the air. He furrowed his brow as a circle of dark red light started to form, a humanoid figure taking shape from it.

 

When a man wearing armor with sharp spikes jutting out from head to toe finally, wielding an equally barbed sword and shield (the latter of which attached to his back), appeared, Garret waved, “How’s it going, Kirk?”

 

The knight stepped forward, stabbing his sword.

 

Garret backpedaled, “Woah! Hey, I just wanna talk!” A swipe of the sword, which Garret ducked under, “Would you,” another stab, “could you just,” he raised his shield to block another slash, “Dammit!” Garret lifted his sword arm, bringing it down to catch Kirk’s blade in between it and his ribs. He pulled backwards, wrenching the weapon from Kirk’s grip. He removed the sword from his side (ignoring the squelching sound it made), “You’ll get this back when we’re done!”

 

Kirk simply grabbed his shield, rolling his shoulders.

 

Garret rolled his eyes, digging into his satchel (dropping the sword in) as Kirk ran forward. When he pulled out a wispy black sprite, holding it forward, Kirk froze.

 

He stared at the Humanity, then at Garret, then back at the sprite.

 

“It’s yours,” Garret stated.

 

Cautiously, Kirk brought his hand over the sprite. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed it with his thumb and middle finger, and crushed it, allowing black mist to flow throughout his body.

 

Garret then took out a dozen humanity sprites, which caused Kirk to step back in what Garret could only assume to be shock.

 

“Now, all this, and a whole lot more, can be yours on one condition,” Kirk crossed his arms, “Tell Quelaag that me and my group mean no harm, we just want to ring the second Bell of Awakening”.

 

Kirk was still for several moments. Garret gulped, charging up his Pyromancy Flame just in case, before sighing in relief when Kirk nodded his head, holding his hands out.

 

Garret smiled, “Awesome,” he dumped the sprites into Kirk’s hands, “Here you go!”

 

Kirk just stared at Garret, crushing the Humanity in his hands, shuddering as he did so. After that, he held his hand out.

 

Garret frowned, then made a sound of understanding, pulling Kirk’s sword out of his satchel.

 

Kirk nodded, grabbing the blade and placing the sword on his belt. He then pulled out a crystal from his pouch, clenched it tightly, and disappeared in a purple light.

 

Garret smiled, turning away from the knight. He then frowned, “Where the hell is everyone?”

 

**A/N: Quick note, I sort of hate this story right now. Not enough to stop writing it or anything, but I’ve simply realized that a number of my long-term plans (character motivations, backstories, etc.) were shit, and I’ve spent a lot of time just utterly pulling apart and reshaping the path this story is going to take. Regardless, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23:

Boost!

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Oscar let out a groan as he stepped in another…thing. “I hope this doesn’t stain”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Well, we do have a lot of water to clean it off”.

 

Oscar stared as a brown clump floated past, “…I’ll pass, thank you very much”.

 

Siegmeyer chuckled, rounding a corner. He then froze, and whirled around, grabbing Oscar and slamming the younger man against the wall.

 

“Gah!” the Astoran cried out, “Siegmeyer, what in the—”

 

“Shh,” Siegmeyer cut him off. After a moment, he poked his head out from around the corner, “…Good, they didn’t see us”.

 

Oscar shrugged the older man off him, “What are you talking about?”

 

Siegmeyer merely grunted, gesturing for Oscar to look for himself.

 

With a grumble, Oscar did so. He then paled at what he saw.

 

Just ahead, large, gray-scaled lizard like creatures with (almost comically) enormous, round, expressionless ‘eyes’ were milling about, haphazardly knocking into jagged, human shaped statues. A (normal-sized) rat scurried underneath, and one monster—slightly larger than the rest—snapped it up in its jaws. The other two hissed at it, and it responded by standing on its hind legs and engorging its pulsating red neck. The two quickly backed down.

 

With a gulp, Oscar looked away, leaning his head back, “Basilisks…Damn, I thought we went opposite them”.

 

“Well,” Siegmeyer grumbled, “I think we might have gotten ourselves turned around at the intersection with the hole”.

 

Oscar grimaced as his mind flashed to that terrifying instant where, were it not for his friend, he would have plummeted further into the depths.

 

He then clenched his jaw, “We should turn back”.

 

Siegmeyer held up a hand, “Now hold on, friend, I think we can take them”.

 

Oscar scoffed, “Are you mad? There’s three of them!”

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Yes, but they have not seen us, we have firebombs, and one of the best archers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with”.

 

Oscar furrowed his brow, “Siegmeyer, you ca—”

 

“Not to mention,” Siegmeyer interrupted, “knowing Garret, he’ll probably come by and collect whatever items are lying behind them later, by himself”.

 

Oscar scowled, “…All right, let’s do it”.

 

Siegmeyer patted him on the shoulders, “Good man”. He then reached into his pouch, pulling out a few firebombs, “On my mark”.

 

With a sigh, Oscar pulled out his bow, stepping out from the corner. “One,” he grabbed an arrow from his quiver, “Two,” he nocked the arrow, “Three!” as Siegmeyer threw his first firebomb, Oscar loosed the arrow; the former blanketing the three monsters in red-hot flames, and the latter lodging itself into the largest Basilisk’s ‘eye’.

 

The three monsters screeched in pain and rage, whirling around to find the source of their agony. Another firebomb showed them where to direct their rage.

 

The largest one was the first to react, rushing forward and engorging its neck. It leapt high in the air, mouth aimed down at the two knights.

 

Thinking quickly, Oscar aimed an arrow at its neck, where it hit its mark. The Basilisk gurgled as it fell to the ground, scrambling for air.

 

Siegmeyer jumped forward with a roar, slicing the monster’s head off.

 

By then, the other two Basilisks had put out the flames, and were warily glaring at the Catarinan.

 

Siegmeyer stood up, hefting his blade on his shoulders. With a righteous bellow, he charged the two monsters.

 

Oscar bit back a curse, running forward with his bow drawn. He let loose an arrow into one of the monster’s eyes (the actual, white pinpricks just above the jaw), stopping it dead, but the second one had swelled its throat, letting loose thick, golden mist.

 

Oscar slid to a stop, but Siegmeyer charged through nonetheless. Before Oscar could cry out in alarm for his friend, though, the Onion knight burst through the mist, grabbing the Basilisk by one of its throat. He lifted the monster high above his head, and with tremendous force, shoved his blade through its abdomen.

 

Oscar let out a sigh of relief at the sight, before twisting his face into a frown. He stomped towards Siegmeyer, as the man tossed aside the monster’s corpse. He stopped just behind the Catarinan, “What the hell was that?”

 

Siegmeyer turned his head, a jovial tone in his voice, “Victory, my good friend!”

 

“You could have turned to stone!”

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Well, yes, but life is all about taking risks”.

 

Oscar brought a hand to his helmet, lifting the faceplate to rub his temples, “Just, don’t do anything that reckless again, all right?”

 

Siegmeyer slapped his friend on the shoulder, “Of course! Sorry I worried you,” Oscar grunted, pulling his faceplate down. “Now then,” the older man continued, “Let’s see what these things were guarding”.

 

They followed the path through a few twists, where it ended at a corpse with a familiar white glow around it. Siegmeyer reached it first, leaning over to pick it up. He tilted his head, “What an odd ring”.

 

Oscar looked over the man’s shoulder, then paled at the sight of a vertical, white, glowing line cut across an inky black background. He slapped the ring out of Siegmeyer’s hand; rather, he would have, had the man not noticed and moved out of the way. “I say, what’s gotten into you?”

 

Oscar shakily pointed to the ring, “Don’t you know what that is?”

 

Siegmeyer arched a brow, “A gaudy ring?”

 

“That’s the eye of the beast that ravaged Astora centuries ago!”

 

Siegmeyer looked at the ring with renewed interest, “Truly? How can you be sure?”

 

Oscar shivered, “There are pictures—warnings—everywhere back home. Trust me, I know”.

 

Siegmeyer, “Very well…let’s ask Garret for his opinion on what we should do with this”.

 

Oscar slowly nodded his head, “Fine, let’s hear what he has to say”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Oscar rapidly tapped his foot, shifting his gaze between the doorway and the ring rolling around in Siegmeyer’s palm.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “You’re going to put a dent in the floor”.

 

Oscar would have responded, were it not for a low groan coming from the entrance to the room. Garret trudged in, head hung low. He narrowed his gaze at Oscar, “You owe me”.

 

Oscar jolted, “Pardon?”

 

“I just spent the last ten minutes running around trying to get back after killing a giant rat—which doesn’t come back to life—for you”.

 

Siegmeyer frowned, “Surely you could have waited for the rest of us before you tackled the beast”.

 

Oscar snorted, “You aren’t one to talk, ‘Basilisk Slayer’”.

 

Garret stared wide-eyed at the older man, “What?”

 

Siegmeyer rubbed the back of his helmet bashfully, “Yes, well…”

 

“You get cursed?”

 

Siegmeyer shook his head.

 

Garret nodded his head, “Good, we don’t have many purging stones anyway”.

 

Oscar coughed into his hand, “Moving on, there’s something you need to see”.

 

Garret cocked a brow, but turned to face Siegmeyer as the man grunted in agreement. He then held up the ring in between his fingers.

 

Garret carefully grabbed it, “Ah! You found the Ring of the Evil Eye”.

 

“What does it do?”

 

“Oh,” Oscar scoffed, “Who cares what it does?!”

 

Garret stared at Oscar, before the ring’s background flashed into his mind. He frowned, “I can see why you don’t like this…well, don’t worry, it’s kind of useless for us anyway”.

 

“Oh?”

 

Garret shrugged, observing the ring, “Yeah. It’s enchantment kicks in when you slay an enemy—healing you a bit for each kill. However, since we have at least a dozen Estus Flasks with at least ten charges each…yeah, useless”.

 

Oscar nodded, “Then you’ll have no problem if we get rid of it”.

 

Garret pursed his lips, “…Not happening”.

 

Oscar frowned heavily, “Beg pardon?”

 

“It’s a unique item,” Garret placed the ring in his satchel, “It wouldn’t feel right to just throw it out,” feeling Oscar’s incredulous stare, he added, “Don’t worry, no one’s going to be wearing it”.

 

Oscar was silent, before sighing, “…So long as I don’t see it ever again, I don’t care”.

 

Garret smiled, “Good man”.

 

Siegmeyer then jerked his head at Garret, “How did your meeting go with the,” his face scrunched up in distaste, “Darkwraith?”

 

Garret leaned his head against the wall, “First off, he has a name, and its’s Kirk. Second off—” he was interrupted as footfalls reached their ears.

 

Solaire and Beatrice soon entered to room, “Hello all!” the witch said brightly.

 

Solaire nodded to his comrades, then reached into his pouch, “Garret, we found something, and we don’t know what to do with it”.

 

Garret tilted his head at the comment, before his face split into a wide smile. He jumped to his feet, “Gimme!” he shouted, grabbing the golden weapon.

 

Solaire flinched as the trident was wrenched from his hands, “Ah, so you know what it is”.

 

Oscar peered at the weapon, “Wasn’t that the weapon wielded by that tall man in the Undead Parish, one of Seath’s minions, no?”

 

Solaire nodded, “Yes, we killed another one a bit deeper in the sewer,” he turned to Garret, “Now then, what does it—um…”

 

All present tilted their heads to the side as Garret held the weapon in both hands, pointing it to the ceiling. They exchanged glances when the young man started to dance in place, wildly, and with an odd smile on his face.

 

Beatrice opened her mouth, “Garret I don’t think—” she then noticed a small, almost transparent white aura surrounding his feet. Then, Garret stopped his dance, and the white aura extended past his feet, buffeting her and the three knights slightly.

 

She stared at herself, she felt less tired, energized. She clenched her hands, “What in the world? Some sort of bodily enhancement?”

 

Garret nodded, smile still on his face, “Yup, increases the strength of the caster and all those in their vicinity, for twenty seconds, though I’m going to try and see if I can make it last longer,” he muttered to himself.

 

Oscar eyed the weapon appreciatively, “That’ll be of great use!”

 

Garret nodded, “Especially since we’re about to go up against the guardian of this zone”.

 

Solaire hummed, plopping down in front of the Bonfire, “All right, what is it?”

 

“A dragon!”

 

Eight eyes stared at Garret. Beatrice chuckled uneasily, “You’re joking…right?”

 

“Well, the descendent of one, at any rate,” Garret admitted, “It’s heavily mutated due to…gluttony I guess. Anyway, it’s upper body transformed into a massive mouth with countless razor-sharp teeth, it’s got four legs, two arms, a tail—which we are going to cut off—and two pairs of wings that no longer work”.

 

The silence in the room was palpable, “…How many teeth?”

 

Garret snorted, “I never really took the time to count, Solaire”.

 

Siegmeyer waved, “You said we’re going to cut its tail off?”

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah,” he then took out his Weapon Smithbox, as well as some titanite, “its tail becomes a pretty sweet axe—you might like it Siegmeyer”. He then went more in depth as to how the monster attacked, taking great care to stress the fact that all yellow goop is to be avoided at all costs. “Of course,” he crossed his arms, “Worst comes to worse, me and Beatrice should be able to repair any equipment with the Repair Spell”.

 

Siegmeyer nodded, “Right. Now then, going back to the matter of the Darkwraith…”

 

Garret nodded, “Got it all sorted out, we’ll be fine once we eventually cross that bridge”.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

Garret waved his hand, “Positive”.

 

Siegmeyer grunted, “Then I suppose it will have to do,” he then stood up, hefting his blade on his shoulder, “Now then, let’s go kill a dragon!”

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret twirled his trident as he companions checked their own weapons, “Everyone good?”

 

Four voices called out in confirmation. Garret nodded, silently leading them down to the fog door.

 

Garret shivered as the cool mist engulfed his body, and just as quickly disappeared. He rolled his neck as he stomped through the mucky sewer water, glaring at the drop-off several yards ahead. He idly noted his friends come up next to him.

 

Then, a small, reptilian head poked up over the drop-off, looking around the large, cavernous room.

 

Oscar let out a breath, “Is it too much to ask that you’ve been pulling our legs, and that is the actual beast we’re meant to kill?”

 

Then, the rest of the beast revealed itself; two large, scaly hands crashing down on the stone floor, pulling up an even larger body, which was (as Garret had said) split open vertically, dozens upon hundreds of teeth lining its insides. By now, it had pulled up the rest of its body, including its four large, tattered black wings, two pairs of legs as dangerous looking as its arms, and a thick tail which curled and uncurled around its body. It arched its body upwards, roaring.

 

Garret looked over his shoulder, “That answer your question?”

 

Solaire gulped, audibly, “Um…it looks like—”

 

“Save it,” Garret sternly stated, “We’re all adults here,” he glared at the beast as it started to stomp forward, “No need for that”.

 

He then lifted his trident in the air, holding it in both hands. “Remember folks, go for the tail!”

 

After completing his dance, the beast had made it halfway to them, and roared once more. It the slammed its body onto the ground, and charged forward; the five humans scattered.

 

Beatrice and Garret immediately aimed their catalysts, shooting blue magic at the beast as it lifted its body back up. It raised one of its hands to block the projectiles, but that left it open Siegmeyer to run up and attack its abdomen. As this happened, Solaire and Oscar had made it to the monstrosity's tail, and were hacking away at it.

 

Oscar let out a grunt as he gripped his blade in both hands, jumping forward and bringing his blade down at base of the ‘dragon’s’ tail. Unfortunately, his blade went too deep, lodging into its putrid flesh. Oscar groaned, lifting his feet up to placed them on the tail, pulling with all his might. With a massive grunt, he wrenched it free—incidentally, creating an even larger gash—which caused the monster to roar in agony.

 

It shifted over, lifting its tail right over Oscar, who braced himself as the dragon slammed it downward.

 

Then, a flash of yellow light entered the corner of his vision, and a crackling sound assaulted his ears. Oscar grinned as Solaire’s miracle slammed into the tail, dislodging it, sending it flying away. Solaire ran over to the downed Astoran, extending his arm, “C’mon,” he said as he pulled Oscar up, “There’s still work to be done”.

 

Garret and Siegmeyer took advantage of the monster’s pain to unleash a flurry of blows on its sides. They were forced to the side, however, when it started to stomp erratically, howl madly. It slammed its body on the ground once more, and rushed for Beatrice.

 

The witch yelped, and dodged to the side, letting the beast slam into the wall, allowing her another view blasts of sorcery. It slammed one of its feet down towards her, sloppily, and she hopped back. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t notice its arm swinging down to grab her. Fortunately for her, Garret did.

 

With a yell, he ran forward and shoved her aside, crying out as a large, scaly hand wrapped around his torso. Knowing what was about to occur, he frantically attacked the arm, using his Flame to try and light it ablaze for good measure. It did not work.

 

Garret dropped his spear, opting to grab two of the large teeth inching closer as he was slowly pushed into the monster’s maw. He planted his feet on a couple of teeth as well, shaking as its ‘jaw’ tried to work him fully inside.

 

Siegmeyer, seeing the state his friend was in, yelled in righteous fury. He idly noted Solaire and Oscar run up as well, and was relieved to see Beatrice (stricken as she was) scramble away to safety.

 

Her jerked his head at his fellow knights, “Everyone take a limb!”

 

They all quickly found their marks, and hacked (or shot) away.

 

As they were doing this, the beast was forced to lessen its attack on Garret to focus on the new threats. This allowed Garret to reach into his satchel and pull out a firebomb, tossing it into the beast’s innards. As it shuddered in pain, Garret tossed another firebomb in.

 

This time, the monster’s roar was forceful enough to shove Garret away, the young man landing on a dilapidated pillar. He lay on his back, sighing in relief as the monster disappeared in a white light.

 

He heaved a great breath, gulping down a swig of Estus, “Anyone dead—well, deader than usual?”

 

“No”.

 

“Nope”.

 

“I’m good”.

 

“All is well!”

 

Garret looked down at his comrades, “We get the axe?”

 

Siegmeyer hefted a massive, black axe.

 

“My trident?”

 

Beatrice held the weapon above her head, albeit shakily.

 

Garret nodded, “Cool, cool…Just, give me a minute,” he said, “I’ll be down when my limbs don’t feel like jelly”.

 

**A/N: And done. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24:

Little Talks

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Garret arched his back, wincing as his spine popped.

 

Siegmeyer hissed, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

 

Garret nodded, “Don’t worry, I drained a flask, I’m all healed up…just…thought I could stick the landing better”.

 

Oscar grimaced, “I didn’t think hips could bend that way”.

 

Garret shuddered, “Obviously not”. He then shook his head, “Moving on,” he turned to Beatrice, Siegmeyer, and Solaire, “See you guys at the entrance?”

 

The three nodded. “Do take care,” the Sun knight said as he led the Witch and Catrinan to clear the way.

 

Oscar waved them goodbye, then turned around, facing the tall, dark iron doors that stood imposingly at the end of the path. His gaze then fell to their true objective.

 

He silently followed Garret as they approached the strange man sitting cross-legged on a reasonably dry bit of stone. Oscar cocked a brow at the man’s garments—Garret had called it armor, but there was no way something with that man jangling pieces of metal could be considered protective garb by any means—the pair of horns that protruded from his bronze helm were by far the most interesting sight (though the small bifocals welded onto the front of it were a close second).

 

Garret inclined his head slightly, “Hello there, lovely day, isn’t it?”

 

The man bowed his head, “Aye, siwmae. A fine day, if a bit damp”. He straightened up, “I am Domhnall of Zena, who might you be?”

 

“Garret,” the sorcerer pointed behind him, “and this is Oscar, of Astora”.

 

Domhnall nodded, “A pleasure to meet you both”.

 

Oscar crossed his arms, “What are you doing here?” he asked (sincerely, Garret only said there was a man in the depths they should escort to Firelink).

 

Domhnall shrugged, “I’m what you might call a peddler. I’m fond of trinkets and oddities. I had hoped these sewers would prove a rich source of such items,” he sighed in a somewhat dramatic way, “but I was wrong”.

 

Garret quirked a brow, “Really?”

 

“Yes”.

 

“You searched this place, top to bottom?”

 

Domhnall grunted, “Of course”.

 

Garret simply smirked, reaching into his satchel, “No you didn’t”.

 

Whatever retort Domhnall had died in his throat as Garret (much to Oscar’s contention) held out the Ring of the Evil Eye. The peddler from Zena leaned forward, obviously enraptured. “Oh my…” he reached a hand out, then paused, tilting his head up to Garret. At the sorcerer’s nod, he took the ring, examining it closely. “Where did you find this?”

 

“Oscar and a friend of ours found it down a path behind some basilisks,” Garret replied.

 

Domhnall chuckled, “Of course. I knew I shouldn’t have given up on that area”. He took another look at the ring, “…Might you be willing to…part with it?”

 

Before Garret could answer, Oscar gruffly asked, “And why do you want the ring?”

 

Domhnall looked over at the Astoran, “Well…it looks nice”.

 

Oscar scoffed, “Do you even know that it is?”

 

Domhnall nodded, before sighing, “The eye of the beast that decimated Astora ages ago, obviously”.

 

Oscar blinked, “And…you still want it?”

 

Domhnall nodded again, “Like I said, it looks nice”.

 

Oscar huffed, but Garret waved him off, “Oscar, calm down. I already told you, ring’s practically useless”.

 

The knight just shook his head, muttering under his breath.

 

Garret turned back to Domhnall, “Anyway, sure, I’m willing to trade you for it”.

 

Domhnall clapped his hands giddily, reaching into his pack, “Now, I’ve got some weapons, armor, a few resins…” he trailed off as he started to unfurl it.

 

Garret smirked, “Got any keys?”

 

**Line Break**

 

“So, Mistress Quelana, she wasn’t the most powerful of the Witches”.

 

“No”.

 

“But she invented Pyromancy”.

 

Havel growled lowly, before noticing that he was pushing a bit too hard into Benito’s plumage, and calmed himself (but not before the bird flew away, squawking in annoyance), “Whatever you say,” he spat out with an air of finality.

 

Undeterred, Laurentius continued, “But she would have been caught in the aftermath of Izalith’s fall. Only someone with immense power could have not only survived, but lived on to be coherent enough to invite an entirely new field of magical study!”

 

Repressing the urge to slam his hammer in the man’s torso, Havel turned to face the Pyromancer, rising as he did so, “…I’m only going to say this one more time. I was imprisoned, in a tower, for millennia. The only information I can give you about,” he let out a shuddering sigh, “Quelana and her family is what I know of from before Izalith fell,” he stood over Laurentius, who was trembling slightly, “So quit asking!”

 

Laurentius stammered, before finding his voice, “Y-Yes sir,” and backing away.

 

Havel sat down with a huff.

 

“Look at you, scolding him like a knight would his squire”.

 

Havel snorted, “Speaking from experience?”

 

The knight shook his head, “Oh no, I was a model trainee. Squired under a Catarinan duke and gained knighthood three years later”. He smirked when Havel turned to face him, “Oh yes, I was quite the overachiever”.

 

Havel grunted, “Well, obviously that zeal disappeared as you grew older”. The knight nodded idly, observing Benito as he flew above. Havel hummed, “I wonder, if it is not too troubling, what caused your apathy?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know, what caused you to be locked away in that tower?”

 

“I tried to kill Seath”.

 

“And how did that work out?”

 

Havel met the knight’s smarmy grin with a glower.

 

The knight chuckled, “All right, since you’ve shared, it’s only fair if I do the same”. He shifted on his pillar, sitting up and staring at the Bonfire. “I contracted the curse…so very long ago, just before they built that asylum to ship off all us undead folk”. He pursed his lips, “I had heard about the bell—the one up in the church—and how ringing it would—what was it, ‘open the gates leading to the home of the gods to end the curse of undeath’”. He laughed, “Even joined up with a group of like-minded fools—I’ll touch on that soon enough”. He shook his head, “Regardless, we went up through the Burg, died a few times, made our way up to the church, died some more, fought a pair of gargoyles on the church roof, didn’t die, oddly enough”.

 

Havel snorted.

 

“Oh, but wait,” the knight smiled mirthlessly, “it gets better. You see, no one told me that there were two bells. When nothing happened after ringing the one, I was awful confused—rang the thing a couple more times, thought that the gods couldn’t hear the ringing through the clouds”.

 

Despite himself, Havel chuckled at the thought.

 

“I asked my ‘friends’ what happened, and our cleric informed us that there was a second bell down in Blighttown. Thankfully, one of us had a key to that unlocked a gate leading down to Blighttown through New Londo. And when we got there,” he whistled lowly, “We got destroyed. Poison filling our lungs, darts finding their way through the chinks in our armor, and worst of all,” he grew pale, taking a deep breath, “Those…abominations that could do naught but shoot fire out of this cavernous hole where their stomach should be”. He shuddered, staying silent for a long, pregnant moment. “…The deaths I suffered then convinced me that all this ‘cure’ business was a load of crock, impossible to accomplish, so,” he shrugged, “Why even bother?”

 

Havel hummed, “What happened to your friends?”

 

The knight shrugged, “Two of our group—Stanley and Rosalie—wandered off for the Burg. Another one—Mildred—went down to Blighttown. And the final member—Romeo—went up to the forest. Obviously, I haven’t seen any of them since we split”.

 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry”.

 

The knight lazily waved an arm, “It’s fine,” he closed his eyes, leaning back, “It happened ages ago”.

 

Havel hummed, “Well, I hope you hold on long enough to see us bring an end to the curse”.

 

The knight chuckled, “I await with bated breath”.

 

Havel nodded, then turned his head as he heard voices coming from the direction of the Burg. As he looked at his friends, he asked, “Tell me, Knight, what is your name?”

 

The man cracked open an eye, smirking lightly, “My name? No one’s bothered to ask for years now”.

 

“Have you forgotten it?”

 

“Humph, if only”. After a moment, he closed both eyes again, “…Mathias”.

 

Havel inclined his head, “It was nice talking with you, Mathias”.

 

“Whatever you say”.

 

Havel walked over to Beatrice, Solaire, and Siegmeyer, “How was your excursion?”

 

“Went well,” Beatrice said as Benito landed on her staff, “Killed some kind of dragon…thing”.

 

Havel cocked a brow, “Dragon-thing?”

 

She shrugged, petting Benito, “You’d have to ask Garret”.

 

“You might be pleased,” Solaire piped up, “to know that we killed one of Seath’s channelers”.

 

Havel grinned lowly, “Shame I missed it”. He then looked over their shoulders, “And where are Garret and Oscar?”

 

“Stayed behind to escort a merchant from out of the Depths,” Siegmeyer replied.

 

“They should be arriving soon enough”.

 

“And after that we head down to…Blighttown?”

 

“Yes,” Solaire shuddered, “Sounds like a terrible place”.

 

“Sure,” Havel mumbled, more concerned with who he would meet down there than anything else.

 

**Line Break**

 

“So, crystalline weapons are stronger?”

 

“Aye,” Domhnall nodded.

 

“But,” Oscar performed a few practice swings, “Crystal shatters”.

 

“Correct”.

 

Oscar held the sword out, “So you see the problem?”

 

Domhnall nodded, taking the blade, “Ah, but you forget friend, this is magic crystal. Whoever made it knew what they were doing”.

 

“Seath”. Domhnall and Oscar turned to face Garret, “He developed the magic behind crystalline weapons”.

 

Oscar and Domhnall nodded in understanding. Oscar then blanched, “You should avoid showing those off”.

 

Domhnall frowned as he out the sword away, “What do you mean?”

 

Garret hissed, “Oh right, Havel”.

 

Domhnall looked between the two, “Havel…the Mad Bishop?”

 

“He’s only ‘mad’ when it involves Seath, and even then, it’s a slow burn”.

 

Garret stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to Firelink Shrine, “So, I figure you can set up shop down there,” he pointed towards the elevators, “near a bunch of pots”.

 

Domhnall hummed, turning around, “I don’t know…That archway looks appealing”.

 

Garret grunted, reaching into his satchel, “I might make use of your services, and I’m not fond of jumping over chasms”.

 

“Humph, fair enough”. He made to step down, but a flash of light caught his attention.

 

He quirked his brow as the light started to take the shape of a person, shifting his gaze to a ring wearing a similar glow on Garret’s hand.

 

“Ooh!” he leaned down to look at the magical item, “And what is this?”

 

“Not for sale”.

 

Domhnall lifted his head up, staring at Garret’s cocked brow, before shrugging, “All right,” he stated as he headed down.

 

Garret turned to face the light, smiling as it disappeared to reveal Princess Dusk. The Princess curtsied, “Garret,” she turned, “Oscar”.

 

“Princess,” the knight bowed, before walking down. “I’ll get everyone together,” he said to Garret.

 

Garret nodded, before bowing to Dusk as well, “Dusk, how are you?”.

 

“Well, enough. Better now that I’m back here”.

 

He straightened, “Glad to hear it,” and offered his hand.

 

Dusk smiled at the gesture. She clasped his hand in her own, before pulling him forward, wrapping her arm around his.

 

Garret stiffened, before shaking relaxing, walking down with her, making idle conversation.

 

**A/N: Well…that took a while. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25:

  * Down We Go
  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

**Line Break**

 

Beatrice frowned, staring hard at Dusk, “…This feels wrong”.

 

Griggs hummed, “Yes, this is quite a peculiar sensation”.

 

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Garret pitched in, “I’m fi-gah!”. He let out a yelp as he tripped on a stone, falling flat on his face, and shattering his Chameleon spell.

 

Dusk sighed, shaking her head as Garret pushed himself up, “Spatial awareness, Garret, spatial awareness”.

                                                                       

“Yeah, yeah,” the young man muttered. He stared down at his feet, “Still,” he smirked, “That was kind of fun”.

 

Beatrice scoffed, carefully avoiding a pile of old bricks, “Yeah, no”.

 

“The practical applications of this are, actually, astounding,” Griggs stated.

 

Dusk smiled, “Well, I have had certainly a lot of fun hiding from my retainers…in my youth!” she quickly added, face slightly flush.

 

While Griggs ignored her in favor of entertaining his own thoughts, Garret and Beatrice (who undid her illusion) gave her odd looks.

 

Dusk simply looked down, fighting her growing blush, staring at the hem of her dress.

 

Beatrice chuckled, “I knew there was a reason I started to like you, despite that stupid thing on your head.”.

 

Dusk flitted her gaze to the witch, “Well, you are not so bad yourself, once one gets past your choice in clothing”.

 

Garret let out a snort, chugging a bit of Estus, “Well, nice to see that you two got over…whatever got you both riled up over the other”.

 

Dusk and Beatrice both flushed (Dusk was beginning to feel a bit worried about all the blood rushing back-and-forth through her body), “Oh…you noticed?” the princess bashfully muttered.

 

Another snort, “Everyone ‘noticed’,” he smiled at the two, “I’m going to head over to Laurentius, upgrade my flame,” he nodded to Beatrice, “We’re heading out in about twenty minutes”. He then smiled at Dusk, “I’ll let you know when I’ll send you back”.

 

As Garret walked off, Dusk frowned lightly, before turning to her two remaining students. Rather, her one remaining student. “Griggs?” she looked at the spot where the sorcerer last was, only to find it devoid of pottery, “Where did he…?”

 

Beatrice shrugged, “Search me, the man knows how to make an exit”.

 

Dusk tightened her hands around her catalyst, “Um…about the, uh, ‘whatever’ Garret was talking about-”

 

Beatrice cut her off with a wave of her hand, “Don’t worry about it. He’s all yours”.

 

Dusk blinked, “…What?”

 

Beatrice raised her arms over her head, arching her back with a yawn, “Garret, pursue him as you will,” she sent the princess a small grin, “I won’t stop you”.

 

Dusk frowned, which caused Beatrice to chuckle, “I’m being honest”.

 

At Dusk’s still disbelieving expression, Beatrice sighed, “Look, I’ll admit I was…interested…in Garret when I was first freed from my crystal; but I also spent centuries trapped in a crystal, with my final thoughts, before sealing myself away, being something along the lines of ‘I need to meet this man again’,” she scratched the back of her neck, “That doesn’t make for the most stable of mental states, in hindsight”.

 

Dusk’s face relaxed into a neutral expression, “And, now you have no interest in Garret?”

 

Beatrice shrugged, “Well, he is handsome, I won’t deny that, and he does make good conversation, but nothing romantic”. Just then, Garret let out a cry of pain; both women turned, to see Garret hastily putting out a fire that had come to life on his sleeves, while Laurentius beat his hat against his student’s arms.

 

Beatrice bit back a laugh, “Yeah, you’re free to get all that”.

 

Dusk’s mouth twitched, before turning into a full smile as she shook her head, “I graciously thank you for your permission”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Laurentius nervously twiddled his thumbs as he waited for the rest of Garret’s party, “Oh, I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet Master Quelana!”

 

Havel sighed, “What exactly do you plan on doing, when you meet her?”

 

Laurentius shrugged his shoulders, though it came across as more of a nervous spasm, “I mean, I hope that she’ll take me in as a student, like she did for Master Salaman. Though, he did say that her lessons were hard, and dangerous…what if I’m too weak?” the pyromancer brought a hand up, nibbling his fingernails, “Oh! What if there is some sort of trial? Oh my, oh my…”

 

Solaire, turning away from the strange sight of Benito and the giant crow pecking at each other, quirked a brow, before nudging Havel. The bishop hummed, before standing up to face Laurentius. He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, forcing him to stop his ramblings, “Listen, I can’t claim to know what you’re master went through under Quelana’s tutelage, but I do know Quelana,” a small smile wormed its way onto his face, “and I can assuredly say that, should she agree to teach you, she won’t allow you any unnecessary harm”.

 

Laurentius stared at the man, craning his head up to peer into that gray helm, then looked down, letting loose a calming breath, “Thank you, Sir Havel”.

 

Havel grunted, patting the man on the back, “Don’t mention it,” and then walked over to a pillar, leaning back on it.

 

Siegmeyer, who watched the exchange, strode over to Havel sitting down on a broken piece of wall. After taking a moment to make sure he was properly balanced, the Catatrinan turned, “Tell me, or don’t if it’s too personal, but…were you and this Quelana person…involved?”

 

Havel slowly turned to face the man. He internally debated whether he should answer the man, before remembering that he had a wife (in fact, Havel was pretty sure that outside of himself, Siegmeyer was the only one of their who has actual romantic experience). He nodded, “Yes, we were, as you put it, involved”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Married?”

 

A shake of the head, “No”.

 

Siegmeyer clicked his tongue, “I see…”

 

Havel grunted, “What, do you disapprove?”

 

Siegmeyer waved an arm, “Oh no, Frida and myself spent a few years together before making our union official—Catarina isn’t too formal in that regard. I just figured, you know, what with you being a bishop and all”.

 

Havel let out a bark of laughter, “I’m not that kind of bishop…actually, now that I think of it, I’m not even sure how I even gained that title…” he shrugged, “I suppose it’s because I spent so much time with the gods”.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Makes sense I suppose”.

 

Just then, a loud, shrill whistle (which was met with a pair of shrill caws) sounded from just below them. “Strategy meeting!” Garret cried out not a second later.

 

Havel and Siegmeyer got up, walking down the steps (doing their best to ignore Mathias’s irate grumbling).

 

Down the steps, Beatrice rubbed her ears, “How do you do that?”

 

Garret shrugged, “My grandfather was a dog breeder, taught me how to whistle so that I could help him round up the dogs”.

 

Oscar snorted, “Too bad there aren’t very many applications for that particular talent”.

 

Once everyone had made it down, Garret clapped his hands together, “All right people, we’re heading down to Blighttown, and I’m not going to lie, it’s a horrible place”.

 

“Horrible how?” Solaire asked.

 

“Mathias mentioned something about fire-breathing abominations,” at his companions questioning stares, he elaborated, “Mathias is the man on the fallen pillar”.

 

Garret’s jaw dropped, “He has a name?!” he then shook his head, “Wait, what am I saying, of course he has a name”. He fully faced Havel, “Regardless, those things aren’t all that much trouble. No, the real issue is the muck we’ll have to traverse once we reach the bottom. It’s poisonous, and really sticky, so we’ll be forced to a crawl”.

 

“Oh, joy,” Oscar muttered.

 

“I mean,” Garret reached into his pocket, “I have a ring,” he pulled out said ring—a rusty, pathetic looking chain of a ring—flipping it in the air like a coin, “That will let someone walk normally through the muck, but it’s only one ring, and there are,” he took a quick headcount “seven of us so…yeah”.

“But the real issue is the poison, so while you guys head on down to the entrance to Blighttown, I’m going to see moss lady and pick up some purple moss. After heading down the elevator to New Londo, make a right and go down the tower; from there, cross a couple of wooden planks—don’t worry, their safe—and you’ll end up in front of the entrance. There are only three enemies at the entrance, big, slow guys with poisonous clubs, but I’m confident you all can handle it. Any questions?”

 

There were none.

 

Garret nodded, “Great, I’ll see you all when I’ve got the moss”.

 

Garret got up, moving towards the stairs leading up, almost bumping into Oscar on the way, “Woah!” Garret exclaimed, stepping aside.

 

“Oh, sorry Garret,” Oscar said somewhat sheepishly, “Just trying to get to Ana”.

 

As Oscar walked on, Garret stilled, his trepidation for the upcoming area had overshadowed thoughts of what was to come.

 

He spared a quick glance towards the siblings, before biting back the ache in his heart, _“It’s all going to work out in the end,_ ” he all but shouted in his mind.

 

He continued this mantra as he headed for the aqueduct.

 

**Line Break**

 

Havel gazed silently, every bit as stoic as his reputation boasted, at the crowned ruins that are now New Londo. He sighed forlornly, tearing his gaze away from what looked like the remains of a cathedral. “How could you all let this happen?” he whispered, bitterly.

 

“Hm, you say something?”

 

“Nothing of importance, Solaire”.

 

The Astoran nodded, fidgeting slightly. “I don’t know how they could stand it”.

 

“Stand what?”

 

“This…” Solaire gestured around him, “Darkness”.

 

Havel grunted, pointing to the various lanterns dotting the dilapidated architecture.

 

“I’m talking about the lack of a SUN!” he responded heatedly.

 

Havel slowly turned to stare at the knight, who coughed into his hand, “Uh, apologies”.

 

Havel simply waved his hand, “It’s fine, I know what you mean”.

 

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

 

Both knights turned, waving at the confused seer.

 

Havel grunted, “We cleared the path ahead—it stinks, would have been nice if you mentioned that,” Garret chuckled, “and I felt…I don’t know, a queer nostalgia at the sight of this flooded city”.

 

Garret hummed, heading for the stairs, “You ever been there?”

 

“Once,” Havel replied, “When Gwyn anointed the Four Kings a piece of his soul”.

 

Solaire paused, “I’m sorry, his what?”

 

“His Soul,” Havel repeated. He then snorted, “The man handed pieces of that thing out like it was an infinite supply of candy; which, to be fair, it was”.

 

“Delectably sweet?”

 

Now Havel paused, staring blankly at Garret, who returned the look with a bright smile.

 

Solaire coughed into his palm, “Why don’t we go ahead and meet with the others, hm?”

 

**Line Break**

 

“Oscar-”

 

“I see it,” the knight nocked an arrow, taking a moment to aim, and let it fly, knocking another giant mosquito out of the sky.

 

“How many of them are there?” Siegmeyer wondered aloud.

 

“A couple dozen I think,” Garret replied before climbing down a ladder.

 

Beatrice shrugged, “Better than that jerk with the blow darts”.

 

Siegmeyer grimaced beneath his helmet, before pushing thoughts of the now dead foe aside, joining his companions down the ladder.

 

His grimace returned as he laid eyes upon a crude, very fragile looking wooden elevator.

 

“…I’m not getting on that thing”.

 

“Solaire—”

 

“I’m of a like mind,” Siegmeyer hastily agreed.

 

Garret groaned lightly, before hopping onto one of the moving platforms, and hopping in place for good measure, staring blankly at the two knights as he sank further down.

 

Havel grunted, stepping on when then next platform approached.

 

Siegmeyer let out a low sigh as the wooden contraption held firm.

 

Once everyone made it down, Laurentius started hopping from foot-to-foot, staring at the large white hill with what looked like spikes jutting out of the ground, “This place is giving me the creeps”.

 

“Oh,” Garret smirked, “just now?”

 

Laurentius chuckled, “Guess my nerves finally gave out”.

 

“Well,” he took a second to fire a bolt of sorcery at an approaching mosquito, “Maybe a bonfire will calm your nerves”.

 

The group trekked through the mushy surface of Blighttown, half of them sighing in relief at the sight of a bonfire resting inside a massive aqueduct.

 

Laurentius brought his Flame out, idly forming and dissipating a fireball. “So, where is Master Quelana?”

 

Silence.

 

Oscar nudged Garret, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

The sorcerer jolted, “Huh, wha—Oh! Sorry, got a bit distracted”.

 

“Waiting for that Invader you told us about…Mila?”

 

“Mildred,” Havel corrected.

 

“I think I see her,” Solaire said, pointing at a small, black-red light in the distance.

 

Beatrice peered closer as she fully came into view, slowly moving forward “Is she…?”

 

“Naked? Almost. She’s wearing nothing but loincloths”.

 

Oscar shivered, “That can’t be sanitary”.

 

A small thud came from behind them, redirecting their attention to a pale, sitting Laurentius, “Th-th-that’s the one! She captured me back on the surface!”

 

Garret stared wide-eyed, “Wait, really?” Then, after a moment, he started to snigger.

 

Solaire cocked a brow, “What’s so funny?”

 

Garret waved a hand, “Oh, nothing. It’s just,” another bout of sniggers, “She’s also known as ‘Maneater’ Mildred”.

 

Silence reigned, until Siegmeyer shook his head, “That was a very poor jest”.

 

Garret would have replied, were it not for a splash of sludge coming from behind him. He turned, coming face-to-face with Mildred.

 

The portly woman stared at the group, her burlap mask completely covering her face. Yet, it was unnecessary, as her slow, careful steps backwards told them everything they needed.

 

“Hey there!” Garret waved at the woman, who froze, “Wanna hang with us for a bit?”

 

Laurentius bolted up to Garret, roughly turning his around, “What in the name of Izalith are you doing?!” he harshly whispered.

 

“Making a friend,” Garret cheekily replied.

 

Laurentius whipped his head around, seeking support from the others, finding none.

 

He hung his head low, “Remember why you’re here,” he muttered, “This is all for knowledge, all for knowledge”.

 

Garret turned back to Mildred, “Well, feel like coming along for a bit?”

 

The woman was still, before shrugging, and kneeling, disappearing into a dark purple fog.

 

Garret smiled, sitting down at the bonfire, “And now, we wait”.

 

Oscar regarded his curiously, “You don’t want to go and explore?”

 

Garret yawned, leaning back into his hands, “Later, after we finish our first trip to Anor Londo”.

 

Beatrice stared disgustedly at their surroundings, “You want to come back?”

 

Garret shrugged, “I mean, not like I can just leave Laurentius flapping in the wind”.

 

“You didn’t seem too concerned with my well-being a minuet ago,” Laurentius grumbled.

 

Garret shrugged, opting to stay silent as they waited.

 

Siegmeyer nudged Havel on the shoulder, “So,” he whispered, “are you prepared for these next few meetings with the Witch’s daughters?”

 

“I appreciate the concern, but it’s unnecessary,” he set his jaw, “I’ll be fine”.

 

Siegmeyer was silent, before leaning against the wall, “If you’re sure…”

 

“Positive”.

 

Before Siegmeyer could say anymore on the subject, a series of splashes caught their attention.

 

All present stood—and in Laurentius’s case, edged back slightly—as Mildred entered the aqueduct.

 

Garret, as he is wont to do, broke the silence, “Hey, how you doing?”

 

Mildred hefted her almost comically oversized blade on her shoulder, “Goddamn, this brings back some fucking memories,” she said, voice surprisingly light.

 

“What, reminiscing on the countless victims you cooked up?!” Laurentius spat.

 

“Wha,” the woman shook her head, “No, simpler times, back when I thought—hey, I recognize you!”

 

Despite his earlier outburst, Laurentius shrank back slightly, hiding behind Siegmeyer, “You very well should! You wanted to eat me!”

 

Mildred snorted, “Good Lord, no! I just strung you up for those mindless shitheels in the depths. We have an understanding. Besides, if I did eat people, I’d prefer them with a bit more meat on the bones—and that they don’t whine like bitch at every little nock on the head”.

 

Solaire cocked a brow, “What kind of ‘understanding’? You bring them the occasional meal and they don’t eat you?”

 

“Yup”.

 

Beatrice recoiled in disgust, “What about the people you captured?”

 

Mildred shrugged, “Fuck ‘em”.

 

Havel grunted, “Mathias failed to mention she was a sociopath”.

 

Garret nodded, face set in an uneasy frown, “I’m beginning to regret inviting her along”.

 

Mildred abrubtly pointed her blade at Havel and Garret (prompting everyone the bring their own weapons up, “Hold on—did you say Mathias? Brown hair, sharp nose, kinda midgety?”

 

Garret’s eyes narrowed, “I wouldn’t use that last descriptor, but yeah, him”.

 

“Well, damn, I thought he threw in the towel after one of those bug demons burned him alive. How’s the bastard doing?”

 

“Fine, apathetically staring at a bonfire hours on end, but fine,” Oscar replied.

 

Mildred paused at that, “Really? Huh,” she brought a hand to her chin, “I mean, he ain’t hollowed, so that’s good, but apathetic…oh well,” she made a small gesture, “not my problem anyhow”.

 

Beatrice sharply turned to face Garret, “Can we go now?”

 

Garret sighed, hefting his trident, “Yeah, let’s”.

 

**Line Break**

Quelana was, for the first time in a long while, intrigued. Not enough to get up from her rather comfortable seat, but intrigued nonetheless.

 

She could hear the large group as they traveled down that ramshackle contraption the native Blightownsmen called an elevator (before they all went mad at any rate).

 

She didn’t see them—again, she was too comfortable to be bothered to get up and look at them—but she could hear at least five voices, before they faded away at least, which surprised and pleased her. It was nice to know that, despite all the horrible things going on both above and below her, those rascally humans—or Undead, or whatever they liked to call themselves nowadays—could still find the time to bond and work towards a common goal.

 

 _“I wonder if any of them are Pyromancers?”_ she let the thought roll around in her head, before dismissing it. Even if there were any, she doubted they would have the sufficient power to see through her enchantment.

 

Then, the first two came into view. A pair of knights, one in large, rotund armor that made him (at least, she assumed it was a he) look like some misshapen onion, and the other wearing more standard armor, the only glaring difference being a red feather coming from the top of his helm, and an image of a sun—Lord’s above, that brought back memories—on his chest.

 

They did not see her.

 

Then came another three (rushing a bit, since the other two had started to fight those giants guarding her family’s tomb) another knight, wearing armor a bit fancier than the other two, that madwoman with the cleaver, and a witch (for who else would wear a hat of that size) in leather armor.

 

They, too, did not see her.

 

Then, came a man, the sight of which brought back fond memories. Brown, almost tattered clothes, with a hood pulled over his head. So much like that slippery salamander.

 

And to her quiet joy, he saw her.

 

“Oh,” the man gasped, “Y-you’re really here?”

 

That made smile, she’d always wondered if Salaman spread her teachings and whereabouts, “Hmm? Heard of me, have you?

 

But he ignored her, turning to look back, “Garret! Garret, you were right, she’s here!”

 

Quelana frowned, they knew she was here? How? They might have heard of her from Salaman, but she was on the surface when she trained him, not down in these dregs.

 

Soon enough, this Garret person came into view. His eyes shone with what she assumed was glee, but not to the same degree as his friend.

 

“Hello Quelana,” he waved, “How are you doing?”

 

The Witch blinked, “So…I take it your Salaman’s pupils, come to learn from the source?”

 

His friend nodded, though Garret made a ‘so-so’ gesture. “I’ve got a couple of other things in mind”. He then looked to the side, face set in a small frown, “Hey! The hell’s keeping you? She’s right here”.

 

Quelana’s face scrunched up, but before she could voice her query, the person came into view.

 

And her heart stopped.

 

**Line Break**

“Hey! The hell’s keeping you? She’s right here”.

 

Havel swallowed back the lump that had once again formed in his throat.

 

He stepped forward, coming to a stop just beside Garret, and followed Laurentiuss’s line of sight.

 

Staring at nothing.

 

Thankfully, Garret had mentioned Quelana’s illusion before, and Laurentius mentioned a possible way to counter this. Indeed, the Great Swamp native frowned, and moved closer to Havel.

 

Only for a flash of fire to stop him in his tracks.

 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the flames faded away, revealing an all too familiar garb to Havel’s old, tired eyes. Only, the hood now fully concealed her face, instead of before, when it only covered her eyes.

 

He barely registered Garret and Laurentius walking away, concentrating only on the woman in front of him.

 

She stood, shakily, like she did whenever she’d come face-to-face with some great shock—his mind briefly flashed to a distant memory, a particularly complex trick Ledo had pulled, which then immediately backfired, quite literally, on the eccentric knight. Havel immediately shook away the foggy memory, focusing on the present.

 

Quelana was in front of him now, one arm held close to her chest, the other reaching up to his helm. But then she stopped.

 

“N-no,” she softly whimpered, “I-Impossible. H-Havel’s dead!” She spat out, “You’re just an imposter!”.

 

Havel hummed, “I was imprisoned, Quelana, not executed. Though, admittedly, I should be dead”.

 

She was backing up now, until her back was against the wall, “N-no,” she whimpered once more.

 

Havel sighed, placing his hammer and shield on his back, and reached for his helm. Shoving down his lingering nerves, he took it off, setting it aside.

 

He stared intently at Quelana, desperately wishing to push away her hood, lose himself in her impossibly bright eyes, but stayed his hand; it would not do to push her, not now.

 

She stared at him, frozen in place. Then, after a time which felt longer than his imprisonment, Quelana let out a quiet sob.

 

Havel, immediately, moved forward to comfort her, hold her as he did ages ago, only for her to crash into him, grabbing him in a tight hug.

 

Not for the first time—though the first time in a long while—Havel marveled at the how she found a way to comfortable nestle into his grasp, despite his admittedly bulky armor. The thought quickly faded away, however, as he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her, so that that he could nestle his head into the crook of her neck.

 

Quelana sobs had quieted, enough for her to gasp out, “I-I’m sorry!”

 

Havel let out a small, disbelieving snort at that, “Wha-What do you have to be sorry for?”

 

“I-I-I didn’t stop you! I should have kept you away from Seath! I should have—”

 

“Heh…heh…HAHAHAHA,” Havel laughed, a great booming laugh—one that had not been heard since his imprisonment—startling his companions and Quelana (though the latter quickly latched onto it as another steady reminder that Havel was really, truly here). He couldn’t help it, overjoyed at the fact that after everything, all this time, all those tragedies, Quelana was still Quelana.

 

He let out a long, happy sigh, bringing a hand up to take off her hood, staring deep into her warm, wet, orange eyes, “You have nothing to be sorry about,” he placed his hand on her cheek, smiling as she leaned into it. “I was stubborn, impatient, and arrogant. Nothing would have kept me from trying to kill Seath that day. So please, do not blame yourself, not for my errors”.

 

Quelana laughed, quieter than his own, and closed her eyes. She then brought up her free hand, squeezing his bicep.

 

Havel’s pulse quickened, breath hitching, as he leaned in closer. Then, in a move of desperation, longing, and sheer joy, captured her lips in how own.

 

And just like that, for a few brief, precious moments, Havel felt a sense of peace that had long eluded him.

 

But, that peace was merely temporary, and though he would like mothing more than to hold Quelana in his arms until the Flame finally faded away, but he knew that he still had a job to do.

 

Reluctantly, he pulled away.

 

Quelana’s smile threatened to split her face apart, but it seemed that her rational side had taken control as well, for that same smile quickly morphed into a hard, determined grimace. “Havel, I need you…I need you to do something for me. It’s my sister, Quelaag, she’s—”

 

“Transformed into an unholy cross of woman, spider, and fire,” Havel interrupted, setting her down.

 

Quelana’s grimace turned into a confused frown, “H-How did you know that?”

 

Havel turned to his group, who were waiting up near the entrance to Quelaag’s lair, “See that man with the Trident,” Quelana nodded, “He can see the future, and the past”.

 

Quelana nodded sadly, bending down to pick up Havel’s helm “So, he’s come to ensure my sister’s death,” she said, trying to keep her voice from quivering.

 

Havel chuckled, taking the helmet from her, “Not quite”

 

Quelana’s eyes narrowed, “What do you—?”

 

“CAW!”

 

The two flinched at the sudden squawk, facing the sky. Havel grunted, holding his hand out, where Benito landed. The crow preceded to squawk repeatedly, aggravated, at Havel.

 

Quelana stared wide-eyed at the small bird, “…What is that?”

 

“A crow,” Quelana rolled her eyes, pulling her hood up, “named Benito”.

 

Her jaw dropped, “I’m sorry, ‘BeNITO’?.

 

Havel chuckled, shaking Benito off, who simply settled on his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll fill you in on the important bits before we meet your sisters”.

 

Quelana said nothing, letting Havel lead her towards the rest of his group, her arm entwined with his.

 

**A/N: This took a lot longer to put out than I wanted, but I’m glad I got through Quelana and Mildred in one chapter, saving Quelaag, the Fair Lady, Kirk, and Ceaseless Discharge for the next one. Oh, and Eingyi I suppose. Plus, I got rid of the whole ‘Love Triangle’ thing; came to the realization that it was unneeded, plus I didn’t want the two (currently only) girls in the group to be divided by something so trivial. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26:

Family Reunion

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

**Line Break**

Garret gazed down the hill, smiling softly at the sight of Havel and Quelana (and Benito comfortably perched on the crest of Havel's helmet), arms linked together, gingerly walk through the sludge of Blighttown…That sounded less romantic than he'd hoped.

"So, they used to bang, right?"

And that didn't even resemble anything close to romance.

"I mean, see how tall he is? I'd be more than willing to jump his bones myself!"

He turned around, wincing at the sight of Mildred nudging Oscar with her elbow, "C'mon," she continued, "don't be such a prude! It's just sex, boning, rolling in the hay, the beast with two backs, the—"

Oscar shoved her shoulder away, "I'd rather not discuss the…intimate details of my friend's romantic life," he ground out.

Mildred stared at Oscar, "…You're a virgin, ain't ya?"

Oscar audibly sighed, walking away from her; though Mildred quickly followed, heckling him.

As this went on, Laurentius sidled up to Garret, "You know, it's not too late to send her on her way".

Garret shook his head, "I want to help as many people as possible, and Mildred, for all her faults, is a person. Besides, she helped out with those boulder-tossing giants".

Laurentius scowled, but said nothing.

"Just so you know," the two Pyromancers (varied in skill they were) jumped at Siegmeyer's voice, "I've checked out the cave; aside from those strange egg people and the Fog Door, it's all clear".

Garret smoothed his clothes, "What, is my word not good enough, after all this time?"

Siegmeyer crossed his arms, "It never hurts to be sure".

Laurentius looked side-to-side, "Hold on, where's Beatrice and Solaire?"

"Solaire is waiting further inside, and Beatrice is as far away from," he coughed into his gloved hand, "you-know-who as possible".

Laurentius nodded, "She's got the right idea".

Garret rolled his eyes, "Get over yourselves," and carefully made his way down the hill to meet Havel and Quelana.

He made it down in time for the pair to finish wiping the gunk off their feet. "Have a good time catching up?"

Havel turned towards Quelana, "Yes," Garret smile at the soft tone in Havel's normally hard voice, "I believe we have".

Quelana gazed nervously at the hole leading further into the hill, "Havel's told me that my siblings are sane".

Garret shrugged, "Well, Quelaag and the woman I believe to be Quelaan are at any rate".

Quelana held up a hand, "Hold on, the woman you  _believe_  to be Quelaan?"

Havel grunted, "This is news to me too".

Garret cocked a brow, "Did that not come up? Yeah, I don't know her name, I'm just going by naming conventions. Like how all of Gwyn's children have his name in beginning of theirs, and all of Nito's creations have his name at the end of theirs. Your name is Quelana, and the one other sister who's name I know is Quelaag, names starting with 'Q-U-E-L-A' and ending with whatever, basic reasoning posits that the Witch of Izalith named all her children using the same formula".

Quelana pursed her lips, "…Fair enough. Though the theming was actually just 'Q-U-E-L'. The 'A's' are mostly coincidental".

Garret smiled, "Huh, neat. Anyway," he continued, "Yes, your two sisters just down the cavern are sane," he quirked his brow, "well, sane enough given everything that happened to them".

Quelana stood a bit straighter, "That's better than I'd dared to hope".

"Um, hello?" Solaire suddenly called from the cavern, "I've, uh, found someone".

"Is it the giant spider-lady?" Oscar called out in reply.

"No, it's our spiky, uh, friend I suppose".

Garret perked up, "Ooh, wasn't expecting that!" he climbed up the hill, gesturing for Quelana and Havel to follow, "C'mon, let's go meet your sister's bodyguard".

**Line Break**

Solaire nervously tapped his foot as his friends made their way into the cavern. He stole a quick glance at the infamous, and friendly is Garret is to be believed, Knight of Thorns, Kirk.

The tangent thought that the Knight of Thorns' name was surprisingly mundane flashed in his mind, and he would have dwelt further on it, were it not for the loud cough coming from the man beneath the thorny armor. "If you've got something to share," the man said in an unsurprisingly gruff voice, "go ahead and say it".

Solaire awkwardly shifted his feet, "…How is, uh, your charge?"

"The Fair Lady?"

"Isn't her name Quelaan?"

"Might be".

Solaire cocked a brow at this, "You don't know? Did you never ask her, or Quelaag?"

The Sun knight regretted asking that, as Kirk's mood immediately soured, his voice gaining an edge, "She doesn't talk much, and neither do me and Quelaag for that matter".

Solaire tactfully stayed silent after that. To his quiet relief, however, he did not have to do so for long. "Ah, I believe I hear my friends on their way".

Kirk grunted in affirmation, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword, "You've got quite a lot of 'friends'".

Solaire ignored the hard(er) edge in Kirk's tone, "Yes. In truth, I consider myself quite fortunate, finding such a great group of people".

The first of the group, Garret, came into view. "Hey Solaire," he nodded at the knight. He then smiled at Kirk, holding a hand out, "Kirk, nice to meet you face-to-face!"

Kirk looked at the offered limb, then shifted his gaze to the large party entering the cavern.

Garret walked over to Solaire, whispering, "Awful friendly, isn't he?"

Solaire hummed, "Given what you've said of him, it's to be expected".

A sword slid out of its sheath, and the pair turned to see Kirk holding his jagged blade in both hands.

Solaire blanched, "…Honestly, that felt like it was only a matter of time".

Kirk lifted his blade, pointing it to the group, "Where did you get those clothes?" he spat out.

Beatrice looked down at her outfit, "Umm…The Berg?"

"Not you! The woman in the charcoal robes. Whose corpse did you strip down?!"

Solaire gulped as Havel moved forward, arms reaching for the weapon secured on his back. He only stopped when Quelana—who Solaire, now that he had a proper look at her, noted was almost two heads shorter than the Bishop—placed a hand on his shoulder.

She stepped in front of Havel, and the rest of the group, standing straight as she matched Kirk's harsh stare. "These robes were not pilfered from a corpse, sir knight, there are, in fact, the last items I've saved from Izalith".

Kirk's grip tightened, "Impossible!" he growled, "No one escaped Izalith's fall unscathed!"

Quelana chuckled mirthlessly, "Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean there isn't damage".

Kirk lowered his sword, but still kept it at the ready, "Who are you, then? Which one of the Witch's daughters do you claim to be?"

"Quelana," the woman answered.

Kirk hummed lowly, "…Quelana's body  _was_  never found," he levelled a stare at her, "Always assumed it melted in lava".

"Obviously not," Havel grumbled.

Quelana briefly smiled at Havel's comment.

"Hey!" Quelana's smile instantly disappeared, "Not that isn't sweet and all, but can we go somewhere where I don't have to fear a spider's going to crawl up my legs".

Laurentius let out a sigh, "Can't fault that," he begrudgingly admitted.

Kirk leaned forward, "Is that the cannibal woman?"

"Hey!" Mildred shouted, offended, "I've never eaten another person's flesh! Of course, I've had more than my fair share of—"

"Why don't you take us to meet Lady Quelaag?" Siegmeyer hastily interrupted.

Kirk nodded, "Sure, she'll better determine the truth. But only…Quelana, for now".

Havel stepped forward, "And me".

"And who the hell are you?"

Havel crossed his arms over his chest, "Havel the Rock".

"The Bishop?" Kirk shook his head, "What am I saying, the armor should have given it away". He gave the man a long look, "Aren't you insane?"

Havel cocked a brow, "Aren't you a Darkwraith?"

Kirk chuckled, "Touché," then sighed, "All right, but just the two of you, the bird stays".

Benito squawked angrily from his perch on Havel's helmet.

**Line Break**

Havel hummed as he stood in front of the fog door leading to Quelaag's…lair, for lack of a better term.

He looked to his side, frowning at the sight of Quelana beginning to hyperventilate. He quickly took her hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He smiled when she squeezed back, her breathing coming to a more even pace.

"All right," Havel turned his attention to Kirk, "I think we're ready".

The knight grunted, "Sure". He snorted, "When I met your pal, the sorcerer with the stupid grin, I thought the only thing we were going to get out of this was Humanity. Now, I'm either facilitating a family reunion, or killing a couple of loons. Either way, today's a good day" with that, he stepped through the fog.

Quelana slipped out of Havel's grip, stepping up to the fog door.

After watching her disappear in the white mist, Havel followed.

The first thing Havel noticed once the fog cleared was that the room they were in was massive, with what could only be massive spider eggs lining the walls and ceiling. Second was the dilapidated tower far at the other end of the room, with another fog door blocking them from heading further down.

Havel quickly walked forward to stand with Quelana at the center of the cavernous room, as Kirk pressed on, stopping just in front of the dilapidated building.

"Quelaag!" the knight shouted, "Get out here! I've brought some people you need to meet!".

It was silent after that. Then, a series of thuds came from behind the tower, along with a harsh orange glow. The source of the noise and lights quickly came into view.

Havel resisted the urge to recoil as a massive…abomination of a spider came into view. Its long legs bent inward at odd angles, yet still managed to support and balance the demonic beast. Its mouth opened a wide, giving Havel a good view of its long tongue and jagged teeth splaying outward. To say nothing of the lava which ran just underneath its skin.

Thankfully, Havel tore his eyes away to the most intriguing part of the creature, the dark-haired woman attached to its head from the torso up, loosely holding a long, curved, toothy blade. She took a moment to pet her attached companion, before gazing down at Kirk. Then, her gaze flitted over to Quelana, and her face twisted in fury.

The attached spider roared, and the conjoined pair rushed past Kirk, heading straight toward Quelana.

The Daughter of Chaos froze as her monstrous sister barreled forward. She let out a yelp, not of fear, though, but of surprise, for Havel had shoved her aside. The Bishop grabbed his hammer with both hands, slamming it down in front of him, its booming thud echoing throughout the cavern, causing Quelaag's spider to rear back with a hiss.

"Stop, Quelaag!" Havel bellowed, "Why, even after all this time, do you not think before you act?!"

Quelaag took a moment to calm her beast, leaning forward to peer at Havel. "…Havel?" she whispered, "Is that you?"

The man hefted his weapon, resting it on his shoulder, "Yes, I've escaped from my prison".

Quelaag's gaze shifted to Quelana, narrowing slightly, "But then, who are you?"

Quelana took a deep breath. She took off her hood, and spoke, not in the guttural language that dominated the world, but a lighter one, her voice akin to a soft breeze, "It's me, Quelaag, Quelana".

Quelaag moved back a few steps, both at the usage of her family's language, and the revelation of who was using it. Her breathing grew shallow, her expression a mixture of bewilderment and joy. It did not last, however; her face soon twisted into a snarl of rage.

"Where have you been?!" she screeched, stalking forward to lean down into Quelana's face, "How did you escape Izalith unscathed?!"

Quelana stood her ground, though a heavy frown formed across her face, "When the ritual failed, as you know, I was on the outer edge along with Quelaan and Quelaria".

"Of course," Quelaag scoffed, then looked down at the floor, "We found Quelaria's body dangling off a roof".

Quelana drew a sharp breath at the confirmation of one of her sister's demise, but continued, "The blast sent me careening into Gravelord Nito's realm. One of his servants, a Fenito, found me, nursed me back to he—".

Quelaag slammed one of her spidery limbs into the ground, "I don't care about any of that!" she snarled, "Why didn't you come back?!"

Quelana wrung her hands together, "When I first left Gravelord Nito's realm, Lord Gwyn and his knights were at war with the demons that sprung forth from Mother's failure, and demanding that all of her 'Daughters of Chaos' either be brought into custody, or killed".

Quelaag huffed, "So, you ran and hid?"

"Yes," Quelana readily replied.

A scoff, "Of course, why would I expect any different? And after Gwyn's army fell back in retreat? What then?"

Quelana looked down, shamefully, "I had heard tales, about you and Mother. I—," she gulped, "I thought you'd been transformed into a mindless beast".

Quelaag looked down at her blade, "Well…I did kill my fair share of knights".

Quelana took a deep breath, "Quelaag," she said as she stepped closer, carefully ignoring the demonic spider attached to her sister, "I am so sorry that I was not there for you all these years," she ignored the tears welling up in her eyes, "that I allowed myself to be ruled by fear. And I hope, that even though it's been so long, and so much has happened, that we can try and be a family, that we can be sisters, once more".

She started crying, not as hard as when she was reunited with Havel, but enough to make her shudder and gasp as she stared down at the floor.

Then, Quelaag's beast moved forward, and Quelana felt a slender hand fall upon her shoulder. "Oh, silly, silly sister," Quelaag whispered, "You should know the answer to that".

Quelana lifted her head up, meeting Quelaag's teary stare with her own. Smiling widely, she leaned up, hugging her sister for the first time in years.

Havel smiled warmly as the two Daughters of Chaos embraced. At the sound o footsteps approaching, he turned to face Kirk.

The Knight of Thorns nodded at the pair of women, "Well, guess you two are the real deal".

Havel simply grunted in reply.

"Did," a pause, "did you understand what they were saying?"

Havel nodded slowly. "Did Quelaag never teach you her family's language?"

Kirk bristled slightly, "No. Said it would be useless to teach me a dead language. I think that's bull, but there  _are_  more important things at hand," he muttered grouchily.

Havel heard that, but said nothing, instead pointing to the fog doors, "Any idea how to get rid of those".

Kirk gestured to the sisters, who had moved apart, and were now chatting idly in their native tongue, "That would be Quelaag's doing, and I'm not about to interrupt her".

Havel looked at the sisters, his smile forming once more, "Yes, let's give them a few more minutes".

**Line Break**

Garret craned his neck up at the Bell of Awakening, humming in thought, "Any idea what this thing was originally for?"

Havel was about to answer, but Quelaag—having finished remaking the fog doors—beat him to it, "Mother used it whenever she wanted to meet with the other Lords, but wanted the meeting to be here, in Izalith".

Garret frowned, "Then, what's with the second bell, in the Parish?"

"For the humans that wanted to meet with the gods, or an emissary on their behalf," Havel replied.

"Whew boy, it is hot in here! Hey spider-lady, hope you got a way to keep cool, cause otherwise I'mma have to strip down to my birthday suit!"

Quelaag scowled, and Havel sighed, "Is this woman really a vital addition to our mission".

Garret chuckled nervously, "Uh, yeah, about that. I was actually planning on leaving her here, with you, Quelaag".

Quelaag's scowl deepened, and her spider hissed lowly.

Garret quickly brought up his hands defensively, "Hey, figured you could use and extra set of hands to help out your sister. And aside from her…vernacular, she isn't that bad".

Quelaag glared at Garret, then brought a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, "You've brought Quelana back to us, so I suppose that gives you some goodwill". She moved past Garret, taking a moment to pause, "But if she proves too unstable, I will kill her, permanently".

Garret shook his head, "If she attacks you, by all means".

They travelled down the staircase, where Oscar walked over to meet them, "There you are, aren't you going to ring the bell?"

Garret managed to not flinch at the question, instead saying, "It can wait until we leave".

Oscar shrugged, gesturing for Garret, Havel, and Quelaag to join the rest of the group. Once Kirk noticed that they were all together, he moved away from the wall he was leaning against, turning around to give it a kick.

The wall shimmered for a few seconds, before disappearing into nothing, revealing a long hallway leading further in, and a tall sack of eggs preventing entry.

And then the egg sac moved, "I say, who are you people?!"

Half of the group recoiled a pale head lifted off the ground, glaring at the assembly of people. "This is no place for you ruffi—"

"Out of the Eingyi," Kirk growled as he and Quelaag walked forward.

As Kirk and Quelaag dealt with Eingyi, Laurentius drew in a sharp breath, "'Eingyi'? Can it be?"

"Hmm?" Siegmeyer turned to face the Pyromancer.

Laurentius gasped, "Oh, of course!"

Siegmeyer tilted his head, "What did you say, friend?"

Laurentius shifted his gaze to the Catarinan, "That…thing is something I was warned about. He used to be a very skilled Pyromancer from the Great Swamp, very talented, very ambitious".

"Let me guess," Beatrice cut in, "His ambition got the better of him?"

Laurentius nodded, "I've only heard the tales, but apparently, he created a few pyromancies which perverted the art of Pyromancy, got him cast out".

"What were they?"

Laurentius shrugged, "I don't know," he walked forward, "But I suppose I can find out".

**Line Break**

Havel smiled as the three Daughters of Chaos embraced, tears streaming down the 'Fair Lady's' face—and now that he was face-to-face with her (and listening in on her conversation with her siblings) he could see that she was not Quelaan, like Garret supposed, but Queleia, the youngest of the Daughters.

His smile disappeared as he looked at the sickly sister; Garret undersold how bad off she really was. Her once vibrant dark hair was stark white, hanging limply off her head, every breath she took was laborious, and her voice, even by the standards of her native tongue, was small, almost nonexistent. To say nothing of the demonic spider she was attached to; it was completely unlike her sister's, its skin an unhealthy, chalky white instead of a muddy brown, barely moving, the lava coursing through its body moving like stale syrup.

He spared a glance at Benito, settled on one of the sacs lining the wall, intensely focused on the Daughters of Chaos. Havel suspected that Nito was taking great interest in what was going on, now that he finally had a way to see what was going on.

Suddenly, Oscar stepped in closer to the Bishop, lifting his faceplate to rub his temples, "…I thought my sister had it rough". He shrugged, voice lowering into a growl "Then again, this Firekeeper  _chose_  her fate".

Havel pat the Astoran on the shoulder, "I seem to recall something about a covenant, do you plan on joining?"

Oscar took a moment to reply, "I don't really know. Will you?"

Havel shook his head, "No. I swore myself to Anor Londo and its people, and even after all that's happened, I won't go against that vow".

Oscar let out a sigh, "Fair enough".

Across from them, Garret looked between Kirk, Laurentius, and the Daughters. He nudged Laurentius, "So, I take it you plan on staying here?"

Laurentius cocked a brow, "What do you mean?"

A shrug, "I don't see Quelana wanting to leave her sisters, not now at least".

Laurentius peered around the room, "…There are worse places to learn, assuming she will teach me at any rate".

Surprisingly, Kirk answered, "Don't see why not. Assuming you two don't want to go out and strip Humanity from unsuspecting corpses, there wouldn't be much else to do," he paused, "Well, I suppose you could talk with Eingyi, but I wouldn't recommend it".

"What was that?" the exiled Pyromancer called out, "What did you say, you ingrate?"

"Go suck one of yours eggs worm-breath!" Kirk retorted.

"Why I never!" Eingyi started to crawl over, "We are among guests, you—"

Laurentius tore Garret away from the budding argument, pointing to the Daughters, "Garret," he said, "I'm curious, do you know what language they are speaking?"

"Nope," Garret readily replied. Then his eyes widened, and he slapped his forehead, "Good lord, I almost forgot".

He turned, "Hey, Kirk!" When the knight turned, Garret reached into his pocket, pulling out the Witch's ring, tossing it to the former Darkwraith, "Put this on".

The Knight of Thorns caught the object, rolling it over in his palm, "What does it do?"

Garret smiled, "Put it on and find out".

Kirk levelled a stare at the seer, "That's not good enough".

Garret's smile didn't change, "It'll help you with you self-appointed job".

The knight huffed at that, but took off his left glove, slipping the ring on his ring finger. He flexed his hand, frowning at the inherent magic in the ring. He focused on it, sensing when the ring activated. He then took a moment to look himself over, frowning when he failed to notice anything overtly different. HE turned to Garret, "Now wh—!" he slapped his hand over his mouth (rather, where it was underneath his helmet).

This caught the attention of the Daughters, prompting Quelaag to narrow her eyes, "What was that?"

Kirk removed his hand from his mouth, staring at the ring upon it, deactivating its magic. He took a deep breath, "I think," he activated the ring once more, "that was me".

The Fair Lady tilted her head, eyes twitching slightly, "Sir Kirk," she whispered hoarsely, "Is that you?"

Kirk gulped, but walked forward, "Yes, Fair Lady," he kneeled, "It is I, Kirk".

The Fair Lady clapped her hands lightly, "Oh, what a joyous day! I've long hoped for a time to come that we may converse," she frowned, "I'd only wished that day would coincide with the return of my good health".

Kirk stood up, gently taking her hands in his own, "My Lady—"

"Queleia," the woman interrupted, with a soft smile, "My name is Queleia".

Kirk smiled, "Queleia," he repeated the name a few times, "It feels good to finally know your name".

As the pair—far sooner and far easier than either had ever hoped—chatted excitedly, Quelaag and Quelana exchanged bewildered looks.

"Did you teach him our language?"

Quelaag shook her head, "No, and I'm certain he couldn't have pieced it together on his own". She peered at the knight, gasping at the sight of a familiar ring on his finger. She skittered over to him, abruptly grabbing his limb. When Quelana saw what caught her sister's attention, she too let out a short gasp.

"The hell!"

"Quelaag? What are you doing?"

Quelaag glared at Kirk, "Where did you get this ring?" she hissed.

Kirk tore his hand out of her grip, "The sorcerer".

Quelaag whirled around, sneering at Garret, who gulped. "Is there, uh, something wrong".

Quelaag stalked forward, "Where did you get that ring?"

Garret chuckled uneasily, "Would you believe me if I said I just found it in my pocket one day?"

"No".

"Well, how do I make you a believer?"

Quelaag grabbed Garret by the collar, pulling him up, "You mean to tell me that one of my Mother's rings, something she only gave to trusted friends and followers, just happened to find its way in your pocket one day?"

Garret shrugged, "I mean…"

Quelaag and her spider growled lowly, but they stopped when Havel laid a hand on her arm, "Quelaag, leave it be".

The Daughter of Chaos glared at Havel, but when Quelana took a place on her other side, she relented, dropping Garret.

Garret stumbled slightly, frowning as Quelaag moved closer to the Fair Lady.

That frown deepened when Garret felt something tug his pants leg. He tilted his head down, staring down at Eignyi's hopeful expression. "I say, would you happen to have another of those rings?"

Garret smiled guility, "Oops. Uh, sorry Eingyi, only had the one ring".

The infected man's face fell, morphing into a scowl. He crawled away, angrily muttering as he left.

Garret grunted, "Well, if we're done with that, I think I'm going to go see their brother".

Laurentius cocked a brow, "What brother?"

Garret smiled, "Ooh! Time for a fieldtrip!"

**Line Break**

Eight people looked on in shock at the misshapen, gargantuan figure in the distance. Sensing the mass of people, it turned, giving the group a good long look at its orange, melted face, the numerous insect limbs sprouting forth form its back and torso, its face set in a permanent, pained frown.

"Holy shit! That is one ugly son of a bitch!"

Quelaag's face twisted into a snarl as her brother's frown seemed to deepen.

However, to the surprise of all present, it was Quelana who retaliated, clamping a hand on Mildred's bare shoulder, a harsh glow emanating from her palm. "What did you say about my brother?" she forcefully asked.

Mildred hissed in pain, stammering "Um, I said, Holy, uh, cow! That is one sad-looking fella, I sure hope we can help him out". Quelana peered closer at Mildred, gave a slight nod, and released her grip.

Havel snorted, while Quelaag looked on in approval.

Garret sighed, "Gee, Mildred, that's some, uh, great insight. Unfortunately, helping him will have to wait".

Quelaag arched a brow, "What do you mean?"

"You know about the yellow fog door in the ruins down below?"

Quelaag nodded.

"After we get through Anor Londo, I'm going to open it up, grab the ring your brother dropped years ago".

Quelaag set her face in a neutral expression, before bowing (as best as she could), "Then I shall thank you, for all that you have done, and will do, for my family".

Garret smiled, "Glad to be of service".

**Line Break**

Oscar let out a breath as he lowered his hand, stemming the flow of Humanity from him to Queleia.

The Firekeeper bowed her head, muttering in her native tongue.

"She says thanks," Quelana supplied, "And she hopes that one day she'll be able to meet your sister".

Oscar smiled, "I hope so too". He stepped aside, "I do wonder, why does she only speak that language?"

"It's easier on the throat," Quelaag off-handedly answered.

Oscar shrugged, "All right then".

He walked away, stopping in front of Laurentius, "Well, friend, I wish you luck in your apprenticeship".

A light blush spread across the Pyromancer's cheeks as he rubbed the back of his head, "You don't need to make it sound so formal," he bashfully muttered.

Oscar chuckled, then swept his gaze towards Mildred, who had unfortunately recovered from Quelana's reprimand, and was now in the process of annoying Eingyi, "And I also wish you luck in dealing with Mildred".

Laurentius sighed, "I'll admit, I was really hoping she wouldn't want to stay down here, but I'll make do".

Oscar nodded, heading for the group going back to the surface.

He paused when he saw Kirk milling around the staircase, "Shouldn't you be back there?"

The Knight of Thorns shook his head, "I'm traveling with you lot now, specifically to teach you the ropes of our covenant, and also to more easily find humanity".

Oscar frowned, "How are you going to accomplish that second one?"

Kirk grunted, "Humanity tends to congregate wherever masses of people are; ergo, the larger the group, the more Humanity there is to collect".

Solaire, who was nearby by, popped into the conversation, "Wait, really?"

"Well, yeah. Did you people not notice?"

At the pair of knights' silence, Kirk scoffed, "Of course not".

Oscar furrowed his brow, "Wait, if that's true, why isn't this more widespread knowledge?"

Kirk chuckled, "Oh, I only know that because the leader of the Darkwraiths hammered it into my head back when I was a greenhorn. Ah, speaking of," he dipped a hand into his pouch.

Oscar and Solaire shifted awkwardly at the mention of Kirk's sordid past, only to freeze when the knight held up a crimson, glowing orb, with an equally eerie eye staring dead-eyed near its top.

Oscar gulped, "Why do you have that?"

"I  _was_  a Darkwraith," Kirk stated with a chuckle, "picked up more than my fair share of tricks; such as," he held his right hand up, clenching it. A dark red glow emanated from his palm, spreading out to cover his entire hand.

As Solaire and Oscar stepped away, Kirk held out two fingers, pressing them against the eye of the orb. While he held his fingers down, the orb shimmered, and the red glow started to ebb away. In its place, a red tinted view of Queleia's bonfire.

Solaire quickly turned on his heel, staring in shock at the shimmering red orb hovering in the room just a short walk away.

"Um, hello?" a voice called from the orb. Further inspection revealed it to be Laurentius, peering into the object.

"Ah, good," Kirk replied, removing his hand, "Literally anyone other than Eingyi".

"I heard that!"

Kirk ignored the irate caretaker, instead turning to Oscar, "You have any Humanity sprites left?"

"Uh, a few".

Kirk grunted, "Take one out," Oscar did so, "Hand it over," Kirk commanded.

Hesitantly, Oscar did so.

Nodding in thanks, Kirk grabbed the sprite, crushing it in his hand.

"Now, you," he directed at Laurentius, "Move the orb to Queleia".

Laurentius cocked a brow, "Uh, is it safe?"

Kirk rolled his eyes, "Yes, now move the orb".

Laurentius slowly did so, only stopping when Queleia reached out to grab the orb herself, "Sir Kirk," she whispered, "I was unaware it'd been so long since we parted".

Kirk shook his head, "No, I'm just demonstrating an aspect of our Covenant".

The woman smiled, "Ah! Well then, I'd best do my part". She inhaled slightly, wrapping her hand around the orb.

Kirk copied the gesture, letting out a breath as his hand glowed harshly.

On the other end, Queleia withdrew her hand, an unmistakably black and white glow in her palm. The glow then disappeared, and the Daughter of Chaos smiled warmly, "Thank you, and good luck, to all of you".

"Thank you for your kind words, my lady," Kirk replied, and after a few seconds of silence, tapped the orb, returning it to its original state.

Oscar hummed uneasily as Kirk put the orb away, "So…I'm going to learn how to do that?"

Kirk shrugged, "Well, I can't give you another orb, but I can teach you how to use the Dark Hand".

Oscar shivered, "I don't know if I want to learn".

Kirk held his hands up, "Good. Don't rush into the decision; it's a dangerous technique, for more than one reason".

Oscar nodded, and an awkward silence reigned over the three knights.

Thankfully, the awkward air did not linger, for the Bell of Awakening gonged overhead.

Kirk winced, "Good lord, I'd almost forgotten how loud that thing was".

Solaire ignored the comment, instead looking excitedly as Oscar, "Hear that, friend? We are one step closer to achieving our goal!"

Oscar smiled, clapping the Sun Knight on the shoulder, "One step closer to ending this Curse".

**Line Break**

Thankfully, the trip back up through Blighttown was uneventful, what with having seven skilled warriors (and one bird) working together.

Still, the easy trip up did nothing to ease the pit settling in Garret's stomach.

Siegmeyer took notice of his friend's discomfort, and asked what was wrong.

Garret replied, "It's nothing Siegmeyer, just…coming to terms with the idea that our journey only gets harder from here".

Siegmeyer clapped Garret on the shoulder, bellowing, "Come now! With the small army we've amassed, I doubt that nothing short of the gods themselves can stand in our way".

Garret plastered an uneasy smile on his face, "And not even them, in the end".

"Hmm, you say something?"

Garret shook his head, "Let's just head on up".

The group climbed into the elevator, taking extra care not to crowd into Kirk and waited as they were carried to the surface.

When they finally reached the top, Solaire stepped into a ray of light, stretching his arms out, "Oh, praise be unto the Sun! I almost forgot how good your rays felt upon my body".

The others ignored Solaire's comment, moving past him towards the staircase. Only to collectively pause when they saw Griggs sitting on the bottom step.

Upon seeing them, the sorcerer shot up, "Ah! There you all are! I take it everything went well?" there was a nervous tinge to his voice.

Siegmeyer stepped forward, "Yes, we accomplished all we wished to achieve. But, why were you waiting for us?"

Griggs almost imperceptibly shifted his gaze to Oscar, before abruptly turning around, "…You'd all better just come on up".

Oscar noticed Griggs's stare, and shoved ahead of the group, "Griggs" he felt a cold grip on his heart, "what's going on?"

But Griggs did not answer, instead he almost ran up the stairs.

Oscar quickly followed, leaving the others to scramble up behind them.

When he made it to the top, he noticed that the immediate clearing was full of people, minus one constant addition.

"Ah, Sir Oscar, I'm…glad your safe".

Oscar barely heard Rhea's words, focusing only on the bloody, empty cell looming in front of him. He stumbled forward, tearing off and haphazardly tossing his helmet away, coming to a stop just in front of his sister's prison.

Mathias, who was standing next to the cell, leaned down, reaching into his satchel. "…Sorry," he murmured. He pulled a crystalline soul out of his pouch, gently handing it to Oscar, who cradled it to his chest; numb to everything but the cool presence of his sister's remains.

**A/N: It's finally here! But with a twist! Also, because I may not have properly hinted at it aside from a few jokes, Havel has been getting progressively taller and bulkier as he's gained back his former strength. Personal headcannon incoming, but I've always felt that in the Dark Souls universe, people can either individually allocate their souls (ala players) to get stronger, or use the souls to physically get larger (pretty much all humanoid bosses). The former is slow, but done right you don't waste souls, and the latter is quick, but you also waste souls on abilities you may not need/use, like Resistance. Anyway, be sure to leave a review, later.**


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27:

  * Questions and Answers
  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

“Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak”

**Line Break**

 

Oscar stared blankly at his sister’s remains as they floated gently in his hands. Something, a small voice in the depths of his disbelief and despair, told him that he should be crying; but his eyes remained dry.

 

He opened his mouth, a dreadful question forming on his lips, but only a hoarse breath spilled forth. He tried again, with the same results. Finally, he articulated one word, “W-what…” before trailing off in silence.

 

Mathias hummed, “What happened?” he finished gently.

 

Oscar nodded numbly.

 

Mathias sighed, “Well, it’s certainly a tale”. He leaned against the wall, gazing upon Oscar’s companions, “…It started a little before you rang that bell”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Mathias sighed, staring at the bonfire from his familiar seat. Idly, he wondered how Havel and his group were faring in their task; more accurately, how long it would take them to give up.

 

He scoffed, “Enough of that,” he muttered quietly, “They won’t just up and Hollow. No, they’re far too stubborn for that”.

 

Having banished that line of thought, he settled into silence once more—at least, he would have, were it not for the sound of armor clanking to his left.

 

Begrudgingly, he turned towards the noise, face screwing in annoyance at the sight of the three greenhorn clerics entering his—well, not really his, but he was there first!—clearing. He placed his chin in his hands, “Oh, what do you lot want? Cause if it’s another scolding, I’m not in the mood”.

 

The blonde one stepped forward, a snarl on his face, but his female friend put her hand on his shoulder. After taking a moment to calm her friend, she smiled at Mathias, “Hello again, Sir Knight”.

 

Mathias rolled his eyes, “Hello again, naïve child”.

 

The blonde scowled, “That’s Lady Rhea to you!”

 

Again, Rhea placated her friend. She then turned back to Mathias, “Do you know the other knight that makes this place his home—Lawrence, I believe?”

 

“Lautrec, milady”.

 

“Ah, thank you Vince”.

 

Mathias cocked a brow, debating whether or not he should answer her question. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like she was going anywhere soon.

 

With a sigh, he replied, “The Carimite?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Barely. Why?”

 

“Oh, it’s just that” Rhea turned, looking over her shoulder at the Parish up above, “We saw him up above, not too long ago. But he left before we could converse”.

 

Her friend, the one in the helmet, grunted, and her other friend—Lords above, at this rate he might have to remember their names! —continued with, “Quite right Nico, he was rather rude. Ignoring us like we were feckless vagabonds”.

 

Mathis hummed lowly, “All right, so the man was rude, why should I care?”

 

“It’s just that,” Rhea placed a hand on her cheek, “I thought I saw him conversing with another person or two”.

 

Mathias narrowed his gaze at the young woman. That was certainly an interesting bit of information.

 

“I was simply curious as to who they are; we tried to find them, to invite them to join us, but they have hidden themselves well”.

 

And that was concerning. Mathias shifted his head to the ground, pondering this new information. From his (admittedly limited) observations, Lautrec seemed to be a solitary man, not one for companionship. Then again, this might have been an old friend from when Lautrec first came to Lordran, and they’d only just recently found each other; but then, why the secrecy?

 

“Sir Knight?”

 

“ _Hold on_ ,” a large part of him interrupted, “ _what do you care_?” What the Carimite did with in his own time wasn’t his business. After all, it’s not like anything they did would affect him. Hell, if anything, they were probably just going to try and enter the city of the gods; probably try and climb around that gate. Yes, that’s it.

 

“ _But it is still concerning_ ,” a small, older part of him whispered.

 

Mathias scowled, unable to ignore that annoying voice in his head. It even sounded like he did all those years ago. Ever since his talk with Havel, that small part had suddenly regained traction within his soul. Not for the first time, he regretted his conversation with the Bishop—he should have left those old memories buried in the dirt where they belong.

 

“Oy!”

 

Mathias jerked his head up, resisting the urge to growl. “What?” he spat out.

 

Blondie had crossed his arms, attempting to project an authority his youthful face readily betrayed, “Milady asked you where the knight currently is”.

 

Mathias sighed, pushing aside his introspections. Lazily, he pointed down the stairs, “He’s do—”

 

Suddenly, a deep, booming gong sounded from below. Mathias froze, disbelieving, as the sound reverberated in the air, then it came forth again and again, echoing further into the sky.

 

“By Gwyn and all his kin,” Mathias breathed out, “They actually did it”.

 

Rhea clapped her hands, “Oh, how glorious!” She said more, but a soft _schlick_ , barely audible above the gong, entered Mathias’s ears.

 

Mathias recognized the sound; it was very hard to misplace, the sound of a blade piercing flesh. But where did it come from? Mathias peered around, cursing the three in his way, only for something to catch his eye. Something which shook him to his very soul.

 

Helmet was the first of the three to notice Mathias’s stunned stare. He followed the knight’s gaze, exclaiming when he too saw that terrible sight.

 

Rhea and Vince, jumped at their friend’s cry. “Nico,” the young man called, “What’s wro…” only to trail off, while Rhea shrieked, clamping her hands over her mouth in horror, falling to her knees before the extinguished bonfire.

 

“Oh,” a gruff voice said, “Didn’t expect you three”.

 

Mathias slowly turned towards the voice, willfully ignoring the Carimite’s curved, bloodstained blade. He instead asked, “What…did you do?”

 

Lautrec grunted, “What needed to be done”.

 

Rhea, still kneeling, staring down at the dead bonfire, hoarsely whispered, “Y-you k—you took her life”.

 

Lautrec sniffed, “I freed her from her cage”.

 

“You killed her!” Vince sneered.

 

At that, Lautrec clicked his tonuge, “Not quite”.

 

Mathias sucked in a breath, “Her soul”.

 

While Vince screwed his face in confusion Lautrec nodded, “Yes,” he reached into his satchel, pulling out a glowing white crystal. “…Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to put it to good use”.

 

“Like hell!” Vince snarled, pulling his mace from his belt, and his shield from his back. Silently, though with a face as furious as his friend’s, Nico did the same with his arms.

 

Lautrec laughed grimly, “Very well,” he dropped the Soul back into his satchel, “Try and take it”.

 

With a throaty bellow, Vince charge, mace held high over his head. He jumped forward, swinging his mace down, only to curse when Lautrec side-stepped his strike.

 

But Nico was just behind Vince, and with a burst of speed, brought his halberd up for a massive diagonal swipe.

 

Only for Lautrec to step inside the swing, bringing up his bloodstained blade for a horizontal slash.  

 

Nico cried out in pain as Lautrec’s curved sword stuck into his side, throwing him into Vince. The two clerics were sent sprawling, scrambling to get back up on their feet; though Nico was, understandably, laborious in his attempts.

 

Vince got up first, rushing forward once more, this time holding his mace in both hands. He went for an underhand swing, only for Lautrec to back-step the attack. From there, the knight pulled out a knife, dashing forward to stab the cleric in the chest. Reflexively, Vince brought up his arms to defend himself, exclaiming as the knife stabbed into his left forearm. Lautrec stepped inward, snapping his foot out to kick Vince away, knocking him back into Nico, forcing the pair into the ground once more.

 

Lautrec scoffed at the two young men, “Pathetic. Did you honestly believe you stood a chance?”

 

While Vince and Nico glowered at the murderous knight, Mathias snorted.

 

Rhea, horrified, turned to the knight, “W-What could possibly be humorous about this?!”

 

Mathias shook his head, “Oh, c’mon! You have to admit, he has a point,” Mathias pointed to Vince and Nico, “These greenhorns don’t stand a chance”.

 

Vince and Nico looked down, angered and ashamed at the knight’s words.

 

“Yes,” Mathias continued, “Not a ghost of a chance”. Then, slowly, he reached behind his seat, and then stood, holding an old steel sword, along with a battered, white and blue heater shield. He grinned wickedly, “Now, me on the other hand…”

 

Lautrec sniffed, but gripped his weapons tighter, “Oh, and why would you do that? Why choose to act now”

 

Mathias shrugged, “Who can say? Maybe I think what you did was morally despicable. I might want the excuse of ‘At least I tried’ when her brother eventually comes up. Or perhaps I’m pissed off that you got rid of the only constantly comforting thing in my line of sight. But, whatever the reason,” he held his blade up, pointing it at Lautrec, “I need to do _something_ about all this”.

 

Lautrec and Mathias stood still as statues after that declaration, staring each other down.

 

Then, Mathias dashed forward, bringing his blade up for a diagonal slash. Lautrec ran forward to meet him, his curved blade held up over his head.

 

Lautrec acted first, swinging his blade down at Mathias’s head, only for Mathias to adjust his sword, holding it horizontal to block his opponents blade.

 

As the blades clashed and sparked, Mathias reared his other hand back, slamming his shield into Lautrec’s shoulder. The Carimite jerked backward, allowing Mathias to disengage and slash his blade downward, cleaving through Lautrec’s pauldron and sinking into his flesh.

 

Lautrec howled in pain, and with a quick growl, jabbed forward with his dagger, piercing through Mathias’s armor. Mathias, in turn, exclaimed, bringing up his foot to kick Lautrec away, wrenching his blade free.

 

Mathias quickly hopped backward, yanking the dagger out of his body with a wince as Lautrec grabbed another blade, similar to his current one, off his belt.

 

“Great,” Mathias muttered, “He’s got two of those damn things”.

 

Suddenly, he heard metal clanging behind him, and without looking back, shouted, “Stay back! You’ll only get in the way!”

 

“Bu—”

 

“Boy, now is not the time to question me!”

 

Without waiting to hear a response, Mathias surged forward once more.

 

He rolled underneath Lautrec’s first swing, coming to his feet with an upward slash to his opponent’s back, which proved futile as Lautrec dashed to his left.

 

He then pulled his arms back, slamming his left blade down, missing, then stepping forward and slamming his right blade down, cutting into Mathias’s shield arm.

 

Mathias grunted, jumping back onto his feet as Lautrec wrenched his blades from the ground.

 

Mathias shook his arm, grimacing at the blood dripping onto his shield, before shaking his head, turning his attention back to Lautrec, who held his blades close to his chest, leaning forward, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 

The two clashed once more, and from there the fight was fairly even; Lautrec would get in a couple swipes in with his blades, and Mathias would return the favor with some shield bashes and a stab. For the first time in, hell, forever, Mathias was grateful for the Undead curse, otherwise he would have dropped from the blood loss alone.

 

Still, pseudo-immortality notwithstanding, Mathias could tell he was fighting a losing battle. His initial burst of adrenaline was slowly tapering off—and sitting on his ass for Lord-knows-how-long certainly did nothing to help.

 

Rolling backwards, he spared a quick glance at Vince and Nico, then back at Lautrec. The two boys had recovered, and Lautrec was beginning to show signs of fatigue—but still, Mathias didn’t trust that the two clerics could finish the job.

 

So, he chose to glare at Lautrec, summoning the last reserves of his strength in an attempt to finish this. Only to pause at a curious sight; a pair of footprints in the grass, which were slowly moving towards Lautrec.

 

Mathias smirked, prompting Lautrec to say, “What’s so funny?”

 

Mathias chuckled, “…It’s just…been a while since I’ve seen this much of my own blood”.

 

Lautrec rolled his shoulder, “Well,” he growled, “you’ll be seeing a lot more of it when I’m through with you”.

 

Mathias simply grinned, “Big words,” and, pooling the rest of his strength, sprinted forward one last time.

 

Lautrec, in turn, stood his ground, holding out both blades horizontally. He shifted his feet slightly, adjusting his aim to better chop off his annoyingly stubborn opponent’s head.

 

Just then, he felt something grip his shoulder and pull him backward. Lautrec flailed, “What the—GAH!” and the next thing he knew, a small, warm blade was piercing the small of his back.

 

He looked over his shoulder, disbelieving of the gloved hand gripping his shoulder, but before he could so much as mutter a ‘Wha?’ Mathias closed the distance, sinking his blade into Lautrec’s chest.

 

Lautrec gasped, lifting his head to the sky in a wordless scream, only to gurgle as both blades sunk in deeper into his body. His blades fell from loose hands, as he weakly lifted his hand overhead, “How…could…Lady Fina, I…” he trailed off, falling limp on the two blades.

 

Mathias glared at the knight’s corpse, grunting as it started to shimmer, “Grab his satchel,” he stated.

 

Looking over the corpse, Griggs nodded, pulling his dagger out and cutting Lautrec’s belt, letting the man’s belonging fall to the ground.

 

By that point, Lautrec’s body had disappeared into mist, and Mathias let his sword fall, held loosely in his hand.

 

Behind him, Rhea gasped, “My word, you—”

 

“Quiet,” Mathias said as he turned around.

 

Rhea flinched at the knight’s harsh tone but did as he said.

 

Mathias stared at the dead Bonfire, then scoffed, “No, he wouldn’t have rested at a place he meant to defile”.

 

Vince stepped forward, a question forming on his lips, but Mathias cut him by turning around, “Head on up to the Parish, that must have been his last spot for rest”.

 

Griggs—with a pair of hardened eyes Mathias didn’t have the energy to wonder about—nodded, turning around to head to the elevator.

 

“And take the thief and horny one with you”.

 

The two aforementioned men flinched from their hiding spot.

 

**Line Break**

 

The Shrine was silent in the aftermath of Mathias’s tale.

 

Siegmeyer—after taking a drink to stymie the toll summoning Dusk took, for the man felt that she should be here as a friend, and that he might bear the weight for once instead of Garret or Solaire—turned to Griggs. “Did you find him?”

 

Griggs snorted, “Sure, huddled in a corner near the altar of the parish. Never seen a man Hollow as fast as him”.

 

Oscar whispered, “What did you do?”

 

Patches, surprisingly, grunted, “Tossed him over the railing”.

 

Oscar nodded weakly, “…Thank you”. He shook, “Far more merciful than what I’d have done, but it’ll have to do”.

 

“And thank you, Mathias, for drawing you blade in Ana’s name”.

 

Mathias nodded at Oscar, eventually replying, “What do you want to do with…her remains”.

 

Oscar sniffed, “Ideally, I’d take her back home to Asotra, bury her with the rest of the family”.

 

He looked down at the cell in front of him, his face somewhere between despair and disdain, “But for now, this will have to do”.

 

Cradling the soul in one hand, he cupped the other, digging into the dirt. He stopped slightly when a pair of thorny gauntlets came into view, but pressed on as Kirk sent him a silent, knowing nod.

 

It took a few minutes for them to make a sizeable hole, but they managed. Then, Oscar once again held his sister’s soul in both hands. He trembled, and, finally, tears welled up in his eyes. As the dam started to break, he let out a choked sob, and then another, and another, until he was weeping; a swirl of emotions coursing through his being.

 

His vision blurred, but he managed to find the tiny grave. Slowly, he placed her soul in the grave. His hands fell to his side, as he simply stared, trying to stem his tears enough to at least see what remained of his sister one last time.

 

He turned his head to the sky, wiping the tears away. He took a deep breath, then turned back to the grave, reaching for the displaced dirt.

 

Suddenly, the soul exploded in golden light.

 

Oscar—and several others—cried out in alarm, falling backwards. Then, the light disappeared, and Oscar stared, stunned, as a familiar, blindfolded figure was kneeling within the cell.

 

Anastacia wheezed, “…haa…haaaa…”

 

Which shook Oscar out of his stupor, “Ana?!”

 

The Firekeeper weakly turned her head, “Os,” she coughed, “Oscar?” she whispered hoarsely.

 

Unthinkingly, Oscar dashed forward, pulling on the cell bars, “Ana! I’m here, don’t worry,” he grunted and pulled, face growing red with effort, “I’ll…get you—rah!” he exclaimed in frustration as the bars shook, but did not give.

 

A white, gloved hand fell upon his shoulder, “Allow me,” Siegmeyer stated.

 

Oscar moved aside as the Catarinan took his place, gripping a bar in each hand. He grunted, pulling his arms outward. He let out a short roar, which became a bellow of triumph as the bars bent, and then broke away.

 

Oscar shoved his way past his friend, entering the cell and wrapping Ana in a fierce hug, a proper hug, for the first time in ages.

 

Ana froze at the sudden contact, “Oscar,” she gasped, voice still weak, though laced in surprise “I, regained my tongue”. She stilled further, “This is wrong, I-I am not meant to speak. The ch—”

 

Oscar brought his hand up, gently stroking the back of her head, “Shh,” his voice wavered, “None of that. Just, none of that”.

 

Ana fell silent at her brother’s words. Instead, she slowly raised her arms, enveloping Oscar in a hug, tentatively at first, then just as fiercely as her brother.

 

It was then, as her brother shuddered into her shoulder, that she realized something—something which set her heart aflame.

 

She raised a shaky hand to her blindfold, slowly pulling it off.

 

Oscar, unaware of what his sister was doing, paused when he felt a grimy cloth fall on his cheek. He pulled back, letting out a breath as Ana blinked and rubbed away years and years of non-use.

 

After a long, silent moment, she settled down, a teary-eyed gaze falling on Oscar.

 

Oscar said nothing, but he did start to laugh, a joyous laugh which did wonders on the somber mood that had settled over the Shrine just moments before.

 

Behind the joyful pair, Kirk crossed his arms, “I’ll admit, didn’t expect such a turnaround”.

 

Beatrice nodded, “Yeah…Who knew a Firekeeper was capable of reconstituting her body”. She then shifter her gaze to Kirk, “You didn’t know that, right?”

 

The knight shrugged, “First I’m hearing of it,” and let the conversation fall.

 

Mathias cleared his throat, “Well, as nice as this is, there’s still the matter of Lautrec’s other friends”.

 

Havel, who was content to be silent, nodded at Mathias, “We can’t afford to bring her with us; it’s too dangerous for a woman with no combat experience—to say nothing of the fact that she was crippled not even an hour ago”.

 

Mathias sighed, hands on his hips, “…I’ll keep her safe,” he rolled his eyes at the questioning stares, “I’ve thrown in my lot with her,” he pointed to the blonde, standing on wobbly feet as Oscar led her outside her prison, “might as well do my best to keep her breathing. Plus,” he gestured around, “I’ve got more than a few people willing to help share the load; can’t work too hard, after all”.

 

Dusk chuckled. She was then struck with a realization, and turned to Garret, “Do you know anything about those men Lautrec was meeting with?”

 

Garret, whose face was mix of happiness and something Dusk couldn’t really place, didn’t respond.

 

She then walked over to him, gently rubbing his shoulder, “Garret?”

 

The seer jolted at the contact, “Huh, wha—Oh, hey Dusk. Sorry, was a bit distracted, what was that?” She repeated her question, to which Garret nodded, “Oh, those two. They aren’t really anything to worry about. Just a pikeman and a sorcerer. Although the sorcerer is wearing the robes of the Sealers that flooded Anor Londo”.

 

Unknown to Garret and his audience, Oscar froze.

 

“So, either he is one of original Sealers—in which case I have some choice words for the guy—or he’s some corpse robbing schmuck. Honestly, its probably the la—”.

 

“Garret,” Oscar suddenly said, head tilted towards the ground, “What did you just say?”

 

Garret opened his mouth to respond, but Oscar pressed on, “Because,” the Astoran stalked forward, “It sounds like you just said that you knew the men who plotted with Lautrec, which would mean,” Oscar stood in front of Garret, “that you saw them all together”.

 

Garret’s heart stopped, and he could only stare wide-eyed at Oscar.

 

“Hold on—”

 

But Oscar ignored Solaire, snarling at Garret, “Thus, I only ask, did you know?”

 

 Garret said nothing, prompting Oscar to step closer, now nose-to-nose with the sorcerer, “Did. You. Know?”

 

Siegmeyer stepped up now, holding his hands out, “Oscar, calm down, I’m sure we can—”

 

Oscar whirled towards the Onion knight, “I want an answer!”

 

“And you’ll get one, once you cal—”

 

“Yes,” Garret whispered.

 

The air stilled. Slowly, Oscar turned back around, “…What was that?”

 

Garret let out a breath, “Yes, I knew tha—oomph!” Garret fell back as Oscar swung a fist into Garret’s nose.

 

Garret wiped a hand under his broken nose, “Okay, I’ll give you that one,” he cried out again when Oscar slammed his boot into his stomach, “That too,” he wheezed. When he saw Oscar lift his foot overhead, Garret rolled to the side, springing to his feet as Oscar stomped down, “That’s just excessive”.

 

Oscar surged forward, only to be held back by Havel and Solaire, “Let me go! He let her die!”

 

Havel grunted, “But she’s here now!”

 

“Doesn’t change the fact that a madman cut her down!” Oscar snarled.

 

“Oscar, brother,” Ana slowly began, “All is well”.

 

“But you didn’t have to die!”

 

“She actually did,” Garret pulled at his collar as everyone turned to him, “It was the only way get her lost body parts back”.

 

Oscar tried to charge once more; but was once again held back. Kirk picked up the slack, glaring at Garret, “That’s a shitty excuse; you left her to the machinations of a madman”.

 

Garret sighed, “Believe me, if I could have done it myself, I would have,” he winced, “…That came out wrong”.

 

Dusk stepped forward, standing between Oscar and Garret, “Enough,” she stated in a tone befitting her station, “Garret obviously had his reasons he for his,” she paused, “actions. It is best we hear him out, before we cast judgement”.

 

Garret let out a breath, “Thank you, Dusk”.

 

The princess shifted her gaze towards Garret, and the man’s heart froze at her impartial stare.

 

Coughing into his hand, Garrett continued, “Lautrec killing Anastacia did…something to her soul. I don’t know what, all I know is that if anyone else tried it, returning her soul to her cell wouldn’t bring her back”.

 

By now, Oscar had calmed down enough that he no longer wanted to strangle Garret. Instead, he glowered at the seer, “Really?”

 

Garret nodded.

 

“And what if Mathias hadn’t stopped him? I suppose he would have just gone on his merry way?!”

 

Garret crossed his arms, “…We would have found him at Anor Londo”.

 

Oscar heaved, “So…my sister’s souls would have been in that madman’s possession until we found him in the city of the gods?!”

 

“…It wasn’t ideal”.

 

Oscar stepped forward, “And why didn’t you tell anyone about this? Why did you hide _my sister’s_ death from me?”

 

Garret set his jaw, “Because interfering would have led to more problems than solutions”.

 

Solaire coughed into his hand, “You didn’t have such reservations against Petrus”.

 

Oscar sneered at that, “Yes, yo—No,” his tone lost a touch of its edge, “no he did”. He turned to Solaire, “Remember? We had to approach him about Petrus; he’d forgotten about!”

 

Garret flinched, while Rhea stepped forward, “Hold on, what’s this about Petrus?”

 

Siegmeyer hummed, “Garret foresaw that he was going to abandon you three in the Catacombs, leaving you to Hollow; as he’d done to the other clerics before you”.

 

Rhea gasped, and Vince replied, “Hold on, how does he know that, and how did he know that stuff about Lautrec?”

 

Garret levelled a blank stare at the blond cleric, “I’m a seer, able to see the part, present, and future. Contain your excitement”.

 

Vince spluttered at this, gesturing angrily at Garret, “Wait, how do we even know that he’s actually a seer? He could have been making all this—”

 

“Do you really think I would have followed him if he were a fake?!”

 

Vince shrank under Oscar’s glare, and opted to stay silent.

 

Oscar huffed, “I don’t doubt his ability,” he glared back at Garret, “I never have; now, though, I’m doubting whether or not he cares enough to use it!”

 

At that, Garret stilled. He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at Oscar, “What was that?”

 

Havel stepped forward, “Oscar, I know you’re angry, but thi—”

 

“You heard me,” Oscar growled. He swept his arm towards his sister and the clerics, “You would have left them to their fates!

 

Garret scoffed, “It’s more complicated than that”.

 

“Oh, how?” Oscar stepped forward, pointing, “Is it because you’re the ‘Chosen Undead’?”

 

Garret set his jaw, “That’s part of it”.

 

Oscar held both arms out wide, snorting, “Or maybe, it’s all of it”.

 

Garret and Oscar glowered at one another, until Oscar dropped his arms to his side, “What does it entail, being the ‘Chosen Undead’?”

 

Garret rolled his neck, “I’ve already told you, I’m going to end the Undead curse”.

 

“How? You’ve been awfully tight-lipped about that”. Oscar waited for Garret to speak, but when he didn’t, continued, “Cause, whatever it is, it’s obviously too important to allow yourself to be distracted by innocents!”

 

Garret opened his mouth to retort—but paused. Had he done those things? He looked back at the Petrus debacle; true, it had slipped his mind at the time, but that wasn’t his fault! Havel and Beatrice showing up in the present distracted him. Besides, he’d gotten it all squared away; although, a quick glance at Rhea, Vince, and Nico’s faces told him that he could have handled that better.

 

Garret imperceptibly shook his head; regardless of the clerics whole situation, Anastacia’s fate was unavoidable. How else was he supposed to give her her legs, voice, and sight back? Nothing he knew revealed any of Lautrec’s tricks—and it’s not like the man himself would have been any help…right?

 

Garret gasped; what the hell was he saying, of course Lautrec could have helped! He could have fostered goodwill with the madman, fed him some lie about being an adherent to Fina, sent to ensure his safe passage. Or maybe even genuinely befriend him; after all Havel was here—to say nothing of the likes of Mildred and Quelaag—anything was goddamn possible! So why…?

 

And then, it clicked. All the pieces fell into place, revealing the ugly puzzle for what it truly was.

 

So, he laughed; small, almost silent chuckles, which quickly became mad, booming cackles. He craned his head upward, holding a hand against his face, howling into the sky at his own folly.

 

Then, as abruptly as he began, he stopped. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. He looked back down at his audience, snorting as half of them had drawn their weapons, most of them stepped back in fear, and a small few looked on in concern.

 

Garret ignored all but Oscar, sending the Astorna a wide smile, “You know something…you’re right. I…really didn’t try to save your sister,” Garret waited a moment, to allow Oscar to retort, but the man simply stared, wide-eyed. So, Garret continued, “It just…it wasn’t convenient. God!” he inhaled a large breath of air through his nose, “That feels liberating, saying it out loud! It muddled with my ‘master plan’! It was so much easier to just let things play out, change little, not rock the boat. Same with the clerics; no need to stick my neck out when it doesn’t really effect me!”

 

Another strangled peal of laughter spilled out from his lips, “And, as to the whole, ‘Chosen Undead’ thing, well…you really want to know?”

 

Oscar, one of those who stepped back and did not draw his weapon (though he was gripping the pommel of his sword), nodded, face set into a deep frown.

 

Garret swept his arms down, palms facing outward, “I mean to usurp Lord Gwyn of all he owns”.

 

A round of gasps chorused—none louder than Rhea’s and Ana’s, unsurprisingly—and Garret snorted, “Yeah…that’s my end goal; it’s always been my end goal”. Garret gestured to his captive spectators, “Everything I’ve done, and have neglected to do, is because of that”.

 

“Y-You,” Solaire choked, baffled, “would dethrone Lord Gwyn?”

 

Garret smirked, eyes shining wildly, “I’m sorry, was I unclear”.

 

Siegmeyer then stepped forward, “Garret, I refuse to believe that”.

 

Garret’s smirk shrunk, eyes losing a touch of their madness, “Well, I appreciate your candor, but it’s true. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for my convenience”.

 

At that, Dusk stepped forward, “You rescued me, was that simply a matter of convenience?”

 

Garret’s smile disappeared, and he looked down at his feet, “…Don’t you remember what I said before you enchanted your ring”.

 

Dusk frowned in concentration, before widening her eyes in horror and disbelief, “Th-that—”

 

“Proves everything,” Garret cut her off, “Don’t you see; every action, every choice, it’s all self-serving,” he manic smile returned, “And now, I can no longer hide it, from anyone”.

 

Garret clapped his hands, the sudden noise shocking a few into jumping, “Well, now that that’s all settled; who wants to get going to Sen’s Fortress?” He leaned his head forward, “Hmm, no one?” He snickered at everyone’s silent, numb faces, “Well, okay then”.

 

He stepped backwards, arms stretched out, “I’ll be going then. I’ll be sure to remember you all fondly, when I take my throne”.

 

He turned on his heel, sharply waving his arm as he climbed the ancient steps leading to the Shrine proper, stopping for nothing—not even the ache in his heart.

 

**Line Break**

 

Havel stared blankly out at the distance; mind reeling at what had just occurred, ignoring the harsh, terrified conversations happening around him.

 

He couldn’t ignore the truth in Garret’s ‘confession’—only an idiot would deny that every action, and inaction, Garret took served to benefit him and his quest.

 

But, Havel could see the bigger picture, it was simple. He’d seen it before, in many a young man thrust into a position that might (or will, in this case) end in his death. An inherent, well, selfishness of sorts; wanting to take the quickest path to finishing one’s doomed mission, getting it over with, so to speak.

 

Honestly, the only problem was Garret’s insistence that he keep the whole affair a secret, and that Havel did not push the him to, at the very least, inform his allies. But, he didn’t, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

 

With a sigh, he grabbed his hammer in both hands. He held it out in front of him, parallel to the wall. He swung into the air a couple times, and then, with a mighty bellow, slammed his hammer into the stone.

 

The booming _CRACK_ served its purpose, bringing everyone to a screeching halt.

 

Havel slowly placed his hammer back onto his back, standing to his full height, projecting the authority he was known for ages ago. “…I realize that we’ve come upon some upsetting news”.

 

“No shit”.

 

Havel paused, turning to glare at the Knight of Thorns. The ex-Darkwraith met his gaze, but only for a moment, and swiftly turned away.

 

Havel grunted, “But there is one piece of information which Garret has withheld from you all—I can only hope that, once it’s explained, it’ll shed some light on his words and actions”.

 

“I highly doubt that!” Oscar sneered.

 

Havel sniffed, “Hold yo—do you smell that?”

 

Oscar frowned, sniffing the air, only to regret it as his face turned green.

 

And soon everyone could smell that terrible stench, cries of ‘Lords above!’ and ‘Where is it coming from?” abound.

 

But Havel was silent, for he recognized that stench.

 

With a low growl, he marched forward, pushing past the crowd and up the steps.

 

He followed his nose into the dilapidated building, frowning at the sight of a giant, gray skinned serpant with freakishly large orange eyes, a bulbous nose, human teeth, and a (Havel groaned in disgust) fleshy mustache hanging from either side of his face.

 

“Ah,” Frampt exhaled, releasing more of his stench into the world, “Were you the one wh—oh, I see you have amassed an army,” Frapmt hummed as he swept his gaze over the shocked crowd, then lowered his gaze to Havel, “And that you’ve helped yourself to Havel the Rock’s belongings”.

 

Havel smirked grimly, “Not quite, serpent”.

 

Frampt gasped, no doubt recognizing the voice, but before he could question the man (or, more likely, run away) Havel swung his hammer around, shoving it into Frampt’s gaping maw. With a harsh bellow, Havel pulled down, catching the snake’s teeth and slamming him into the ground with a sickening crunch.

 

Havel stepped over to Frampt’s…appendage, stomping down on it.

 

The serpent roared, fractionally lifting his head up, gagging when he found that he couldn’t.

 

“Careful,” Havel teased, grinding his heel into Frampt’s appendage, “You might break something”.

 

Beatrice lifted a shaky hand, pointing to the downed snake, “W-W-What the hell is that?”

 

Havel grunted, “This pathetic excuse of a dragon,” he ignored Frampt’s low hiss, “Is Frampt, one of Lord Gwyn’s trusted advisors—and an all-around ass”.

 

Frampt glared up at Havel, “How are you alive?”

 

Havel snorted, “How about this, a story, for a story?’ Havel gestured to himself, “I’ll tell you how I’m still alive and sane,” he pointed to Frampt, “And you tell these fine people the true role of the Chosen Undead”.

 

Frampt stilled, before snarling, “What is there to tell? The Chosen Undead is meant to cast away the curse and—”

 

“Take Gwyn’s throne?”

 

Frampt spluttered at Havel’s interruption.

 

“And would you,” Havel continued, “Tell them exactly what that means?”

 

Frampt growled, saying nothing.

 

Havel stared down at Frampt, before shrugging. He held his arm out, whistling lowly, smiling slightly as a crow landed on his gauntlet. He pointed to the bird, “Frampt, say hello to Be _nito_ ”.

 

Frampt choked, shaking slightly.

 

Havel chuckled, “Yes, you heard that right. Would you like me to get his maker?”

 

Frampt shook his head, rather, he tried to, only to wince as he tugged against his pinned flesh.

 

Havel leaned down, stopping just in front of Frampt’s left eye, “Then start talking!”

 

With a low groan, Frampt shifted his gaze to the group of humans before him, “…Just after Lord Gwyn and his army beat back the demon’s born of the Witch of Izalith’s folly, he came to a terrible realization”.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret stabbed the Hollow Knight to his left absent-mindedly, instead focusing on his failures and mistakes. He sighed as he stepped down the walkway leading to Sen’s fortress, ignoring the chill in his soul.

 

He climbed down the wooden steps of the tower, eyes downcast.

 

“Ah,” Garret jerked his head up at the new voice; and widened his eyes at the sight of two men, one in leather armor, the other in red robes, sitting at the Bonfire—the two men that were the cause of all his current woes.

 

The red-robed man coughed into his hands, “Apologies, thought you were someone else”.

 

Garret smirked mirthlessly, settling down in front of the Bonfire, “You mean Lautrec?”

 

The two men stilled, the man in leather reaching for his pike. “…Yes,” the man in red replied, “You know him?”

 

Garret’s smirk widened, “Sure, but I wouldn’t wait up for him, he Hollowed out”.

 

The pikeman then asked, “And how would you know that?”

 

“The man who tossed his corpse over the railing told me about it”.

 

The red-robed man held his tin catalyst in both hands, “And why did he do that?”

 

“Probably because Lautrec killed a Firekeeper for her soul,” at that, the pair stilled.

 

“Oh,” the leather-clad man gasped, “That’s…terrible”.

 

A snort, “Save your breath, a dozen or so people down in Firelink Shrine know you two were in on it,” Garret stood, walking towards Sen’s Fortress, “If I were you, I’d leave this Parish; they’re somewhat fond of this area, doubt they’d take kindly to your intrusion”.

 

The two men swiftly climbed to their feet, brandishing their weapons at Garret, “Dammit!” the red man cursed, “You stay right there!”

 

Garret looked over his shoulder, “Guys, I’ve been through a bit of an emotional whirlpool, feeling pretty drained, I’d rather not do this right now”.

 

But they ignored him, the pikeman growling, “That soul was our meal ticket! An infinite source of Humanity, gone!”

 

“That’s life!” Garret said with a dark chuckle.

 

The man in red eyed Garret, “…You look like you’ve got some Humanity on you”.

 

Garret turned around, “…Do you really want to do this?”

 

“You could just give your Humanity freely,” the pikeman sneered.

 

Garret narrowed his gaze, gripped his trident with both hands. “Not happening,” he growled, and charged the man in red.

 

The man hopped backwards, but not far enough, and the tridents spinning prongs tore at his robes. His partner stepped forward, stabbing at Garret’s shoulder, only for the sorcerer to duck, rolling backwards to gain space. This gave the man in red the time necessary to charge up a spell, a blue bolt of magic shooting off the top of his staff.

 

Garret ducked under the spell, bringing his trident up to swipe away another stab from the pike. Garret grabbed his staff, charging up his own spell, shooting it at the pikeman, grunting as the magical bolt staggered the man.

 

Blue flashed in the corner of his eyes, and Garret rolled out of the way of another bolt; he then let out a cry as the sorcerer slammed his staff onto Garret’s head. Snarling, Garret pocketed his catalyst, grabbing his foe’s staff, pulling him forward and stabbing with his trident—he smirked as his weapon sunk into the man’s stomach. He snapped his foot out, kicking the man away and getting back to his feet.

 

Hearing wood creak, Garret hopped backwards to avoid the pike, turning to face the other man. His eyes widened as a wooden shield engulfed his vision, seeing stars as it connected with his face. He clutched his head, and then gasped as the pike stabbed into him, slipping under his ribs. Garret stumbled back, trying to pry himself off, but the pikeman stepped forward, once more slamming his shield into Garret’s face, and again, and again.

 

Garret felt his pulse quicken, blood rushing to his ears. These…scum had alienated him from his friends, and now they wanted to kill him?! Not. Happening.

 

A fire consumed his right hand; he swiftly held it up in front of his obstacle, willing a quick burst of fire to explode from his palm.

 

“G-GAH! GET IT OFF!”

 

Garret chuckled, shaking away the pain, only to recoil at the black fire consuming the prone man writhing on the ground, futilely swatting at the unnatural flame.

 

“W-What the hell was that?!” the red-robed man quivered as he held his staff in front of him, “What the hell are you?!”

 

But Garret ignored the man’s frantic queries, peering at his burning hand. He summoned another explosion, silent as an eruption of darkness burst forth from his palm.

 

He stared at the ethereal flame as it faded into the air. Then, he shook, breath coming in short gasps, before a small, disbelieving chuckle tumbled from his mouth. He dropped his hand, tilting his head up, laughing uproariously, madly, as he headed for Sen’s fortress, leaving Lautrec’s accomplices—scared and confused—behind him.

 

**A/N: Finally! This has been banging around my head for months, and now I am FREE! Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28:

Resolve

  * **Dark souls is owned by From Software.**
  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Demon/deity speech”**

“Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak”

**Line Break**

 

Garret back-stepped as the giant snake-man swung its comically huge machete down, smashing it into the stone floor beneath them. He then snickered as an equally comically large axe swung down from the left, slicing into the snake, flinging it onto the tar below.

 

Garret waited for the axe to swing past a few more times, dashing forward to safety on the other side. Reflexively, he turned around, “Everyo—,” he then cursed under his breath. “Right,” he mumbled sadly, shoulders sagging “Almost forgot about that.” He lifted his head up, just barely able to see two pairs of scaly arms poking out the archway above him. Nodding, he slowly walked to his right, trying the find the best angle to hit the four-armed snake-person-thing.

 

Satisfied when he found a proper angle, he grabbed his catalyst off his hip, carefully aiming it so as to avoid the pendulum. But then, something made him pause. A flash of red on the other end of the walkway, back at the entrance. Then, that flash of red revealed itself to be a glowing red and black person, jumping off a ledge in the wall.

 

Garret’s blood froze as he registered the Darkwraith in the room. Gripping his catalyst tightly, he walked back in front of the walkway, and the Darkwraith did the same on its side.

 

Gathering his courage, Garret called out, “Hey! You the guy whose brain I threatened to explode?”

 

The Darkwraith paused, then slowly shook its head.

 

Garret hummed, “Okay then…So, how we going to do this? Want me to meet you at the entrance hall,” the Darkwraith began to jog across the walkway, “Or we can come my way, that’s cool.”

 

In response, Garret raised his catalyst, charging and then firing a blue bolt of magic at his foe.

 

The Darkwraith quickly brought up its left hand, summoning a translucent red shield, which easily absorbed the attack, barely stopping it.

 

Garret grit his teeth, firing once more, a third time, a fourth time! But all to the same effect.

 

The Darkwraith had made it down most of the walkway by then, pausing just behind the last pendulum. As the blade swung past, Garret charged up his Pyromancy flame, and the Darkwraith confidently strode forward.

 

Then a black flame burst to life in Garret’s palm, and the Darkwraith froze.

 

Smirking, Garret tossed the flame at the Darkwraith’s feet, and it panicked, dropping its shield as it jumped backwards to avoid the unnatural flames. Unfortunately, it jumped right in the path of the pendulum.

 

Garret winced as the blade dug into the Darkwraith’s ribs, throwing it into the wall, after which it fell onto the tar. Garret leaned down, jaw dropping as the Darkwaith groggily tried to climb to its feet, only for a Titanite Demon to slam its staff onto its back, after which the Darkwraith finally dissolved into red mist.

 

Garret sat back, staring up at the ceiling, “Yeesh…tough guy.”

 

**Line Break**

 

“And there you have it,” Frampt said with an air of finality, “The sordid history of Gwyn’s sacrifice—of the Chosen Undead’s mission—laid upon your feet.”

 

Firelink Shrine was silent after that; not even the crows uttered a sound.

 

Havel gazed down at the ground, shame and disgust welling up in his soul. He shot a quick glance at Frampt, unsurprised and uncaring of the grief and age shining in the serpent’s eyes.

 

He turned to the audience, a grim smile curling onto his lips at the sight of their dumbstruck expressions. A wry chuckle escaped his lips.

 

“Poor Gwyndolin, to be alone all this time.”

 

Havel lifted his head up, “Queleia?”

 

“Oh! Uh,” Kirk lifted his arms, a glowing red orb held in his hands, “Figured Quelaag and The F—er, Queleia, and Quelana would be able to tell if you two were just spouting bullshit.”

 

“Which,” Quelaag cut in, “They weren’t, for the record. I mean, none of us were there, obviously, but still…” she sighed, “it makes sense.”

 

“Makes sense, makes sense!” Rhea cried out. She stepped forward to get a better view of the Daughters of Chaos. “Did you not hear any of that? The gods fleeing their homes?! Lord Gwyn creating an elaborate scheme so that an innocent human can burn?!”

 

“Actually,” Solaire quietly, wearily interrupted, “Gwyn did no such thing. It was his child that orchestrated all this.”

 

“What child?!” Rhea shouted, “I am a devout member of the Way of White, and I have NEVER heard hide or tail of this Gwyndolin!”

 

Mathias snorted, “Before today I bet you’d never heard of giant, smelly snakes with flesh moustaches either.”

 

Rhea paused, before giggling madly, “You know—hehehe—I haven’t!”

 

Havel grimaced; he would have walked over to the girl, help her process all this, but then he remembered his was the only thing keeping Frampt from slinking away to whatever dung pile he’d slithered out of.

 

Thankfully, Dusk stepped up to the task.

 

The princess calmly strode forward, “Lady Rhea,” she said authoritatively, repeating herself when the young woman did not stop her increasingly hysteric laughter.

 

After the third time, Dusk swiftly raised her hand, slapping Rhea. “That is enough,” Dusk said to the stunned woman. “We do not have time for this nonsense. Regardless of the circumstances, the Undead Curse is still a very real threat.”

 

Patches spoke up then, “And the only man who knew anything about this is a loon.”

 

Havel ignored Patches comment, along with the impending conversations now that the dam broke. He focused on Oscar. When Frampt began, the Astoran had glared ahead with eyes full of (justified) fury; but now, now he merely looked down at the stone floor, tightly gripping his sister’s hand.

 

Slowly, Oscar lifted his shoulder, dropping them as he sustained a long, slow exhale. Delicately, he removed his hand from Anastacia’s, bending down to retrieve his helmet.

 

Oscar held it in his hands, wiping off some dirt. He lifted his head, face set in a neutral expression. He turned to face his sister, who smiled, hesitantly but warmly. Oscar nodded slowly and put on his helmet.

 

After that, he set his shoulders, and spun on his heel, pushing through the crowd.

 

Vince was the first one to notice Oscar’s movements, calling out, “Oi? Where are you going?”

 

“To find Garret.”

 

Siegmeyer stepped forward, “Does this mean you—”

 

“Forgive him?” Oscar finished. At Siegmeyer’s nod, he snorted, “…I can’t say,” Oscar clenched his fist, “But I…I want to hear that story,” he gestured to Frampt, “From his mouth. After that…” Oscar let the sentence hang.

 

Siegmeyer hummed, walking forward, “Then we go together!” he bellowed, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

At that, Solaire and Beatrice stepped forward, nodding at the knight.

 

Havel smiled at the sight; but a frown overtook his features, and he looked down at Frampt, “…You’re not going to run away, are you?”

 

The serpent scoffed, “Of course not. If this Garret is willing to follow in Gwyn’s footsteps, I shall be here to guide him down his chosen path.”

 

Havel leaned down, grinding his heel in Frampt’s appendage, “You do that,” the Bishop growled.

 

Kicking the appendage away—smirking as Frampt cried out—Havel walked towards the crowd. He stopped in front of Dusk, who was soothingly rubbing Rhea’s shoulder as she hastily conversed with Vince and Nico. “Princess,” he began, “will you want to speak with Garret the moment we find him?”

 

Dusk frowned, moving away from Rhea and clasping her hands over her chest, “…I’d like to be there at the start.”

 

Havel nodded, “Then you shall be there.”

 

Dusk smiled, bowing her head at Havel, and turned back to the others.

 

Havel turned to Mathias and Kirk, who were thankfully, next to each other, Kirk having put away his glowing orb, “What of you two? Shall you stay, or leave?”

 

Mathias shrugged, “I suppose I’ll stay and keep an eye on our resurrected Firekeeper. Maybe whip those greenhorns into shape,” he shook his head in mild disgust, “I swear, it’s like their trainers wanted them to die.”

 

Havel hummed, turning to Kirk, “And you?”

 

The Knight of Thorns gestured to Oscar and the others, “I’m still going with you all, can’t find Humanity otherwise.”

 

Havel inclined his head, briefly turning as a flash of yellow light caught the corner of his eye. 

 

He turned to see Solaire waving goodbye to Dusk. After which, the knight turned to Havel and Kirk, giving the pair a small nod before heading off.

 

Kirk grunted, “That’s that then,” and walked towards the elevator.

 

Havel turned to follow, but looked over his shoulder at the last second, “Make sure Rhea is all right,” he called out to Mathias.

 

The knight snorted, “Not like I have a choice. She goes mad, her friends go with her,” he muttered, only somewhat cross.

 

Havel smirked, waving the knight goodbye as he walked towards the elevator.

 

**Line Break**

 

Despite their previous resolve, the group travelled in cautious silence—a terrible shame, Siegmeyer felt, but understandable in light of the circumstances.

 

Still, when they confronted Garret about…all this…who knew what might happen.

 

For his part, Siegmeyer felt that the young man would corroborate the tale. He’d enough experience with children to know when they were lying. Well, to be fair, Garret wasn’t a child, but he’d contracted the curse at a young enough age that he still looked youthful—as did the majority of their group.

 

That was a depressing thought.

 

So, he shoved it away, instead focusing on the stairs leading down to the Bonfire.

 

When he caught sight of the brilliant flame, he hummed, walking towards it.

 

“Uh, Siegmeyer,” the Onion Knight paused, turning to face Solaire, “Don’t you think we should not rest here—after all Garret is just ahead, probably killed his fair share of foes.”

 

Siegmeyer hummed bashfully, scratching the chainmail over his neck, “Fair point,” he mumbled.

 

“Oi! Is that you lot?”

 

Oscar replied, “Yes, Andre. But we’re not staying long.”

 

“You might want to reconsider that. I’ve got,” there was a brief pause, “There’s a couple guys here you’ll want to talk to.”

 

Oscar frowned, but after Andre called out once more, led the group of six down to the blacksmith.

 

Once there, Siegmeyer tilted his head at the sight of two armored men sitting on stools in the corner. One of them—wearing leather armor—had his legs pulled up to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth. The other—in a heavy, red robe—stared blankly at the floor.

 

Andre peered at the group, giving a small frown. He stopped at Kirk, “The hell are you wearing?”

 

Kirk shrugged, “Armor.”

 

Andre snorted, “Looks like you rammed two pieces of—wait, what am I doing?” He shook his head, “Where’s Garret?”

 

At the group’s silence, Andre nodded, “Thought so…these two had an…encounter with Garret. I’d hoped he was with you all…” he trailed off.

 

Oscar stood straighter, “What happened?”

 

The man in leather muttered inanely, rocking faster. His red companion said, “We were up at the Bonfire and met this, uh, Garret,” he gulped, “We got in an…altercation.”

 

“What kind of altercation?” Siegmeyer interrupted.

 

The robed man clenched his fist, “We…were….we were….uh, we have little Humanity between us, and were in the middle of…pooling our resources.”

 

Siegmeyer frowned at the obvious lie, but before he could question it, Beatrice said, “Spare us your woes; what about Garret?”

 

The robed man nodded, “This…man in mismatched armor sat at the Bonfire. He looked close to Hollowing out, you see, and I suppose he must have seen the last bit of Humanity enter my body and—”

 

“Get to the point,” Andre grunted out.

 

“He attacked us,” the man hastily added.

 

Siegmeyer didn’t believe that and was pleased to see Oscar scoff at the man’s words.

 

“We traded blows, back and forth,” the robed man continued, “He got a few good hits in, but we gave as good as we got.”

 

Havel growled lowly, forcing the man to halt his tale in fear. “Er, right, the important bit. He…he had this…”

 

“Fire,” the man in leather finished.

 

Siegmeyer cocked a brow, that wasn’t all that bad. Though, burning alive probably wasn’t fun.

 

“Black Fire.”

 

Siegmeyer froze, that couldn’t be right.

 

The man in leather lifted his head, displaying her fearful gaze for the world to see, “Black Flames! Terrible darkness! Like I was trapped in a cave deep in the earth!”

 

Beatrice chuckled uneasily, “Um, I’m not an expert on Pyromancy, but that sounds wrong.”

 

The man shook his head frantically, “No! This was real!”

 

The man in red nodded along, “It’s true, I saw it with my own eyes.”

 

“Says the avid story-teller,” Solaire mumbled.

 

Siegmeyer chuckled to himself, so true! What a terrible jape!

 

Though, Kirk and Havel were oddly silent. Almost as if they believed this farce…Yet, Siegmeyer could swear up and down that both men gasped at the distraught man’s words.

 

Indeed, Kirk asked, “Black Fire? It was _Black_ Fire?”

 

The man in leather whimpered, but said nothing, so his companion answered, “As black as a cavernous abyss.”

 

Havel and Kirk shared a look after that; a long, silent, terrified stare.

 

Siegmeyer coughed into his hands, “Um, what se—”

 

“We need to find Garret,” Havel abruptly stated, turning for the stairs.

 

Oscar stepped forward, “Hold on! What these men are saying, it c—”

 

“It is,” Havel abruptly stated.

 

Siegmeyer’s breath caught in his throat. A part of him wanted Havel to be wrong; Black Magic was a myth, a tale to scare children straight—not that he ever used such tales on his own child. Yet…if there were anyone he’d believe about this sort of thing, it’d be the man who lived with gods (and, you know, the ex-Darkwraith).

 

Havel and Kirk had already climbed half the stairwell when the red-robed man said, “Hey, hold on! What about—”

 

“Count your blessings that you didn’t die and leave it at that!” Kirk harshly replied.

 

Siegmeyer turned back to the two men; the red-robed one looked stricken, but the man in leather was in his own world once more.

 

Siegmeyer then waved a half-hearted goodbye to Andre, following the rest of his group up the stairs.

 

As he climbed the last set of stairs, he heard Oscar ask, “That can’t possibly be right. Black Magic is a myth! Right, Beatrice?”

 

Beatrice furrowed her brow, “I mean…I don’t know anyone that’s ever tried to cast it.”

 

“For good reason,” Havel growled.

 

Solaire crossed his arms, “So, it is true. Black Magic is real?”

 

Havel and Kirk nodded in tandem. “But we don’t have time to dwell on it!” Kirk stressed, “We need to find Garret, now!”

 

Siegmeyer narrowed his gaze, “Why? What’s going to happen otherwise?”

 

Kirk growled, turning towards the exit to the fortress. He sighed, “I’ve seen what happens to people that stumble into this stuff; it can get bad. If we find him now, we can fix this before it gets out of hand!”

 

Havel grunted, “Yes. It is imperative, now more than ever, that we find Garret.”

 

Oscar scoffed, “Fine! Then what are we waiting for?” And with that, sprinted ahead through the exit.

 

But he barely made it outside before sliding to a halt, “Uh…we’ve got a problem.”

 

Siegmeyer walked outside, eyes widening in alarm at the ginormous wall of fog blocking the entrance to the fortress.

 

Beatrice asked, “Is it another one of those, uh, what did Garret call them?”

 

“Bosses?” Solaire answered, “No, I do not believe so. Perhaps it is another environmental blockade?”

 

Siegmeyer shook his head, “No. I spent many an hour on those steps, and not once did fog block the entrance.” His mouth ran dry, “Which only leaves…”

 

“Darkwraiths,” Kirk finished. He cursed under his breath, walking forward, “Figures, of all the times for those leeches to go on the attack.”

 

“So, what now?”

 

Kirk continued forward, ignoring Oscar’s question in favor of pulling out his Red Eye Orb. His hand took on a crimson glow, and he pressed his thumb against the titular eye. The mist swirled, twisting and turning as though a storm were brewing within the sphere. Then, the mist stilled, and the orb glowed bright orange.

 

Kirk sucked in a breath, “That isn’t good.”

 

“What isn’t good?” Beatrice asked, a hint of fear in her voice.

 

“This,” Kirk hefted the orange orb, “means that there are at least three people invading Garret at once.”

 

The rest of the group shouted in alarm and disbelief.

 

“At _least_ three?”

 

“How does that happen?”

 

“Can we go through?” Havel’s voice cut above the rest.

 

“Yes,” Kirk replied, “But once we enter, we won’t be able to leave.”

 

“How do we stop the Darkwraiths?” Oscar asked, uncaring of the dire warning.

 

Kirk hummed, “…If there’s a guardian—Boss, as you call them—in this area, killing it will, at the very least, keep them away for a bit.”

 

“Why is that?” Siegmeyer couldn’t help but ask.

 

Kirk put the Orb away, “In order for the Orb to work—teleport you to an area and keep protect you from death—it needs to siphon energy from something; usually the user. It takes a lot, as you can no doubt surmise. If there’s a strong being in an area you wish to invade, there’s a spell you can perform to use some of the residual energy of the guardian to ease some of the burden. But, there’s a bit of a time limit involved, and if the secondary source were to disappear for whatever reason…”

 

Solaire crossed his arms, “So if we kill the Boss, the Darkwraiths will be forced to disappear, either by force or their own volition.”

 

Kirk simply nodded, walking up to the Fog. He placed his hand on it, “Get ready; once we’re in, the only way out is either killing the strongest thing here or dying.” With that, he stepped through the fog.

 

Siegmeyer and the others waited for a moment, and when it remained quiet, entered.

 

**Line Break**

 

The first thing Solaire noticed were the two, giant snake-man corpses lying on the ground. He could not repress a shudder at their scaled teeth and flopped out tongues, “Ugh! What _are_ those things.”

 

Havel let out a low growl, “One of Seath’s abominations. What did you say this place was called?”

 

“Sen’s Fortress,” Beatrice supplied.

 

Havel grunted, “Figures.”

 

Solaire turned to the Bishop, “Who was he?”

 

“ _She_ ,” Havel corrected, “Was a crazy bitch who caught Seath’s attention. Everyone,” he said aloud, “Watch your step. Sen was fond of elaborate traps, if this place was indeed made by her hands, there’s bound to be a few waiting to ruin your day.”

 

“Oh, joy,” Oscar muttered.

 

The group moved forward slowly, eyes on the lookout for potential traps. They all paused, however, when they entered the next room.

 

“Ok, what the hell?” Kirk muttered, shoulders sagging at the sight of the ginormous axes swinging back and forth over a narrow stone walkway leading to the other end of the room.

 

Havel was looking over his shoulder at the spikes lining the wall, “It would appear that the passing years did not help her mental state.”

 

“WOOH!” a voice shouted high above them, forcing their heads up, “Eat shit asshole!”

 

“Sounds like Garret’s doing well,” Solaire remarked.

 

Suddenly, a red shape zoomed down in front of them. It landed on the walkway with a thud, just behind one of the swinging axes. Not that it helped, since the Darkwraith faded into mist just seconds later.

 

Kirk chuckled, “Hate to be that guy.”

 

A faint, metallic hum entered Solaire’s ears, “Anyone else hear that?”

 

No one had a chance to answer, as a figure glowing red jumped out from the wall. It rolled as it landed, stopping just in front of Oscar and Kirk. The Darkwraith stood to its feet, tightly gripping its sword; and then it noticed the other four people in the room.

 

It took a step back, but Oscar roared and charged forward, slamming his shield into its chest. The Darkwraith stumbled, which gave Kirk the time he needed to slam his shoulder against it, sending it tumbling down below.

 

Solaire thought that was the end of it, but then he heard a booming _THUD_. “Uh, what was that?”

 

“Looks like a Titanite demon.”

 

“Ah, good to know.”

 

Siegmeyer had moved to where the Darkwraith stood, peering at the axes. “…I believe,” he said, “That I can count the rhythm these things swing by. It’ll take a little doing, but I’m positive that I can figure a way for all of us to safely—”

 

The echoing sound of clanking metal cut him off. The sound grew more complicated, as if gears were grinding against each other. The axes started slowing down, their swings shrinking and shrinking, until each blade was frozen in the air, unmoving.

 

Siegmeyer looked behind him, “Haha! I dare say we have luck on our side!”

 

“Not quite,” Havel stated. Solaire turned around, cocking a brow at the fact that he had both hands on one of the spikes, which itself was bent at an odd angle.

 

At the questioning gaze, Havel grunted, “For all Sen’s insanity, she wasn’t suicidal. Always put in safety precautions. Just have to know what to look for.” He pointed to a symbol above the spike, “See this flower imprinted in the stone? It means that something around it will make things safer.”

 

Oscar nodded, “Alright, that makes things easier. Now, let’s hurry!”

 

**A/N: Shit…this took a while—damn you, the need for a decent education. Also, I got an AO3 account set-up, so I’ll be cross-posting there now. Not all my stories, but this and a couple others…maybe…I might end up forgetting about AO3…we’ll see. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29:

Resolve

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

**Line Break**

Garret huffed as he shoved the limp corpse of a Baldur knight off his blade. "Hah…stupid…goddamn—how are these guys even here? Were they a part of Ricard's entourage, conscripted by Gwyn or whoever to guard the fortress?" Before he could further speculate, the sound of boots stomping filtered into his ears.

He dropped his shoulders, glaring at the red glow down the hallway. When it revealed itself to be another Darkwraith, his glare deepened, "Would it kill you guys to try on different outfits?" he groused.

The Darkwraith, instead of answering, entered a sprint, sword primed for a horizontal slash.

Summoning hidden vestiges of energy, he dove backwards, bringing a burning hand up to blast his foe away.

His face fell as nothing happened.

Scrambling away from a second swing, he dissipated the flame with a flick of his hand, choosing to grip his blade with both hands. Gritting his teeth, he ran for the Darkwraith, stabbing forward.

The Darkwraith had quickly summoned a red shield, deflecting the blade and sending Garret further than he intended. Dropping its shield, the Darkwraith reversed its grip on its blade, stabbing downward.

Garret twisted to the side, grimacing as he rammed against the stone railing, the blade slicing across his armor. Slamming his elbow backwards, he drove it into the Darkwraiths knee.

It buckled, falling slightly; this gave Garret the time necessary to jump up and slam the back of his head into the its mask.

It reared back, clutching what Garret suspected to be a broken nose with both hands.

Grabbing both his and the Darkwraith's blade, Garret thrust forward, sinking both blades into its chest.

It jerked and spasmed dropping its hands to try and shove the blades off. Garret, however, doubled down and sank the blades down to their hilts.

It stilled, finally, and disappeared into red and black mist.

Garret fell to his knees, cocking a brow as the Darkwraith's blade lost its glow, but stayed in his hands. He smirked, "Too bad dual-wielding isn't a thing yet. Loved that shit…why'd they ever get rid of it?"

A faint drum rang into his ears; lifting his head up, he groaned at the sight of a Darkwraith running into view.

His annoyance turned to dread as another portal come to ten feet in front of him.

Stumbling to his feet, Garret leaned against the railing. Fighting two of them—even if they held an even number of blades and he had more than enough Estus flasks—would be disastrous, especially since he ran out of charges for both Pyromancy and Sorcery.

He looked over the railing, noting that it was quite a long fall. Then, he looked at the bonfire on the balcony he lit and kindled during a lull in the invasions. He stared down at the two swords he held. Finally, he lifted his gaze up to the two Darkwraiths stalking towards him.

Chuckling wryly, he hurled himself over the railing. He heard the Darkwraiths sprint forward; looking up showed the one that reached his previous position reaching futilely over the railing.

After taking a moment to flip them off, he held his blades outward. Following short, hurried breaths, he thrust the swords into his chest, grateful that his vision almost immediately went dark.

**Line Break**

Solaire eyed the rectangular hole in the wall, "Say, what do you think shoots out of this? Arrows, darts?"

"I think it's the knives lodged in this snake things stomach," Oscar said as he nudged to corpse with his foot.

"A fair assessment," Siegmeyer stated.

"Hello? Is someone there," a new voice called out from down a hallway.

The thee knights, sorceress, and Bishop, readied their weapons. Kirk sidled up against the wall connecting to the hallway, gripping his barbed blade in both hands, primed for a sneak attack.

It proved unnecessary, however, as when this new person, a man, came into view he was easily identified by the very, very wide-brimmed hat atop his head.

Oscar lowered his blade, "Pardon me, but…are you the sorcerer known as 'Big Hat' Logan."

The held his hand up, "Just Logan, if you don't mind. So, heard of my, have you?" He then noticed Kirk, still holding his blade at the ready, to his side. Logan smiled, waving at the man, "Hello there! That's some awful peculiar armor you're wearing."

Kirk said nothing, instead sheathing his blade and stepping back a few feet.

"Hmm, silent sort, eh? Respectable." He then turned to the rest of the group, "So, if you know who I am, I can only assume you're to ask me for tutelage." He looked at everyone. He frowned softly, "Well, I'm sorry to say that only one of you—you Miss," he clarified, pointing at Beatrice, "are capable of mastering my sorceries. But don't worry, everyone has their own set of talents, I'm sure you'll find yours; if you haven't already."

Beatrice flushed lightly, "Oh! Well, thank you, Mister Logan, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline—for the moment, at least."

Logan sighed, placing his hands on his hips, "That's the second person to brush off my offer in the last hour. Has my reputation declined in my absence from Vinheim?" he muttered to himself underneath his hat.

"Hold on," Siegmeyer spoke up, "Was this other man wearing a boar helmet?"

Logan nodded, "Yes. Rather odd fellow. Just opened the lock to my cage and left with a half-hearted promise to learn some of my spells." He dropped his chin into his hand, "But he did say that Griggs was here, wishing to continue our lessons. Which is unfortunate, since I'd hoped he be spared from the Curse, but hey, at least he still wants to learn." He snapped his fingers, "And he also mentioned some warning against entering Seath's Archives," he laughed, "Not that I'm going to follow that advice, spent the last century trying to find the place!"

Beatrice, Solaire, Siegmeyer, and Oscar sucked in breaths; the four discreetly shifting their gazes to Havel, who'd stilled. Slowly, he said, "Seath? You wish to visit Seath's archives?"

"Well, yes. Why do you think I'm here? Certainly not for the locals." He lifted his head up, just barely seeing past the brim of his hat. He then paled, eyes widening as he recognized the armor of the man was conversing with. "O-oh y-you are," he gulped, "Havel the Rock."

Havel nodded, slowly stalking forward. Logan pulled at his collar, coughing, "Well, uh, for all Seath's achievements he certainly, um, did many things not worthy of praise. I mean, if even half the rumors of what he did to those poor women was true," he laughed nervously, "after all, anything past five is just excessive!" At Havel's growl, he stammered, "Er, did I say 'five'? I mean anything more than one is absolutely beyond reproach!"

Before Havel could grab Logan by his neck, the entire group felt an expansive heat come from up above. Solaire looked up, then flinched and blocked his head as golden mist burst out from the ceiling. It washed over him, and surprisingly, instead of pain, he felt rejuvenated—even if the mist utterly blinded him.

Soon enough, the mist dissipated. However, before he could ask his companions if they were alright, a low hissing sounded from his left.

"Duck!" Logan cried. Solaire did so, hurling himself to the ground; curiously, the ground gave way slightly as he settled atop it, a sharp  _CLANK_  sounding beneath him. But his curiosity did not keep him from turning around as a massive mass of blue energy zoomed over him, crashing into the resurrected snake man, sending it stumbling backwards; alive, but heavily damaged. It soon died as three daggers sank into its torso.

Grunting, Solaire got up to his feet, dusting himself off, "Well, that was exciting."

"Guess Garret hit a bonfire further up," Siegmeyer mused.

"Fascinating," Logan breathed, "I've never observed the bonfires reality altering effects from outside a bonfires vicinity. Oh, if only I weren't so focused on Seath's trove of knowledge." Remembering his present company, he paled, and let out a quiet squeak.

Havel, having picked himself up as well, shook his head, "What am I doing?" he muttered. He turned a sharp glare to Logan, "I'll deal with you later. Where's Garret?" at Logan's questioning stare, he elaborated, "The man who let you free."

Logan grunted, "He went out the other exit. Oh! There are two entrances once you go outside. If you wish to go further up, take the first one on the left. The one at the end leads to a dead-end." Havel nodded, walking along, only pausing as the crest of his helmet bonked against the top of the entryway. Cursing lightly, he bent his head down, continuing on his way.

Shaking her head at the comical sight, Beatrice turned back to Logan. "What about you?" she asked, "Cause if you want to leave, we're kind of stuck until we kill the most powerful thing here."

"Or if we get lucky and no Darkwraiths are either trying to invade, or currently invading," Kirk added.

Logan waved off the concerns, "I'll be fine," he tapped his temple, "I've got more than a century's worth of knowledge locked up in here; I should be more than capable enough to avoid a few Darkwraiths."

Thus, Logan parted from the group, and they continued onward. The path was easily tread, what with six trained adventures/warriors and a man who knew how to disable traps.

There were no Darkwraiths, oddly enough; Kirk did check and said that they were still invading. The group pondered on that for a moment, before deciding that, for better or worse, the Darkwraiths were focusing their efforts on Garret (after all, one man would be far easier to fight than a group of six). All in all, though, it was a fairly easy trek.

Until they entered their third room.

Oscar knelt down, running his hand along the smooth track in the next room, "What's this?"

Suddenly, the ground rumbled, and a quick shout of alarm from Siegmeyer was all the warning he received before being thrown backwards as a large boulder rolled over the space his hand had been, bouncing off a wall, and continuing down.

Oscar let out a shaky breath, "Okay, something was seriously wrong with this Sen woman."

"Oh, the swinging axes were indicative of sanity?" Beatrice snarked.

Solaire peeked his head out the doorway, pulling it back after a moment, another boulder zooming by. He repeated the for another few rounds of boulder rolling.

The Astoran turned around, hands on his hips, "Okay. Um…I don't believe there is enough time to reach wherever these boulders come from in the time it takes for a new boulder to roll down. But," he held his hands up, "I believe there is a small safe spot in the corner at the top of the…path, I suppose." He sidled a glance to Havel and Siegmeyer, "It would be a tight fit, however."

Siegmeyer hummed, patting his armor, "Ah, one of the rare instances where Catarinan ingenuity is a detriment rather than a boon."

Solaire chose to ignore Kirk's derisive snort. "All right, any volunteers?"

Beatrice shrugged, "I'll do it."

"You're sure?" Oscar asked, even as she handed him his staff and hat.

"Yeah. Of everyone here, I'm wearing the lightest gear."

Solaire nodded, clapping her on the shoulder, "Good luck, then."

Beatrice didn't respond, other than short sigh, and walked towards the door.

After another boulder passed by, Beatrice sprinted up the path. Solaire retook his position in the doorway, pulling back as a boulder barreled down, obscuring Beatrice from sight as she rammed into the corner he mentioned.

The five men held their breath, sighing in relieve as Beatrice called out, "I made it!"

Soon after, there was a loud clanking sound, and Beatrice once again called out. "I fixed the problem!" she said.

Going up the path revealed a large, square-shaped room with the most absurd contraption Solaire had ever laid eyes on resting in the middle, under a skylight. Boulders crashed down atop it, and after scant seconds, some sort of hammer would jut out from the wall, ramming into the rock, and sending it zooming away; in this case, out a hole into the forest below.

Kirk whistled lowly, "Pretty elaborate trap."

"Yes," Siegmeyer agreed, following the hammer as it retracted back in the wall, "fascinating engineering."

"Something's up there," Oscar said, pointing towards the skylight.

Solaire followed Oscar's finger, frowning at the sight of…something—it blocked the light as it bent over the hole—drop a boulder onto the contraption.

Havel let out a small, almost disbelieving grunt, and cleared his throat. What followed was the most harrowing sound Solaire ever had the displeasure of experiencing. A mix of an old man's dying breath and a wolf's hungry howl; it reverberated throughout the room.

Havel stopped, coughing lightly. But before anyone could ask what that was, a similar, though much, much deeper, cry came from above.

Havel responded in kind.

There was a booming thud, and large, scarred, gray fingers gripped the edge of the skylight. Then, a proportionally large, helmeted head popped out overhead. A giant, Solaire realized as he took a step back.

The giant scanned the room, gaze falling on Havel. It pointed to the Bishop, crying out once more.

Havel nodded (though a bit hesitantly), responding in kind.

What followed was short, but loud (and slightly haunting) conversation between a demigod and a giant.

Then, the Giant stood. Lifting its head up, it bellowed, echoing into the distance.

Havel turned back to the group, "Well, got some good news."

"I'd hope so," Beatrice muttered as she rubbed her ears.

"The giants in the fortress have seen Garret running around. Currently, he's fighting his way to the highest room." He paused to answer the giant, who'd poked its head back down. "And they've agreed to not bother us on our way up."

"So, no more boulders?"

"Firebombs, actually. Enormous firebombs hurled by a giant on the tallest parapet."

Oscar grimaced, "Well…thank them for me."

Havel nodded again, then led the group further inside the fortress. After killing a few more snake men and crossing two more narrow bridges with swinging axes, they came upon a door that lead outside.

Once they did, they got a clear view of the giant from before, who waved jauntily at them.

Waving back, with far more vigor than the rest, Siegmeyer said, "So, that's a giant, then? I thought they'd all died out."

Beatrice snorted, "Slave races don't just die out." At three shocked stares, she blinked, "What, you didn't know? Giants have been enslaved for centuries; used to be everywhere before I crystalized myself—course, the Curse might have something to do with that."

Solaire grunted, "You know, I tend to forget that you were born centuries before the rest of us."

"So, why do you speak a slave language?" Kirk suddenly asked Havel.

Havel briskly walked forward, "When I knew them, they weren't slaves."

"What do you mean?"

Havel rolled his shoulders, but kept walking, "They were ordinary; citizens, soldiers, artists—though admittedly their art was hard to decipher." He took a deep breath, "I don't know what happened for them to become…this," he said, pointing to the giant, "but at this point it's just another sin upon the gods' backs!" He waved at the group, "Come on, let's try and reach Garret before he fights the local guardian, whatever that is."

"Probably that," Solaire stated.

Everyone turned, training their eyes on the hulking, armored figure standing on a bridge leading to the cliffside. Kirk scoffed, "Of course it's a giant."

Siegmeyer hummed, "Now, now. Let's focus on finding Garret."

**Line Break**

Kirk leaned against a wall, "Well, doesn't look like Garret's showed up yet."

"Well, not like we have anywhere we need to go to," Oscar replied.

Just then, there was a loud clank from the ceiling. Further investigation revealed it to be a chain connected to the cage hanging in the middle of the room. It then descended rapidly, another chain next to it rising at the same speed.

The chain ended at another cage, only this one held a familiar person within it—sans a familiar helmet, though.

Garret froze once he caught sight of the group before him, staying inside even as the cage opened. He gulped, "Hey…everyone."

"Hey yourself," Oscar said tensely.

A pregnant silence reigned, before Garret finally stepped out the cage, "What are…what are you all doing here?"

Havel lifted his head to speak, but Oscar cut him off. "I just want to know one thing," he said as he walked towards Garret.

Garret stood straighter, meeting Oscar's gaze, "What?"

Oscar clenched his jaw, "What…does it mean to be the Chosen Undead?" At Garret's silence, he leaned forward, "Every word that's slipped through your lips is suspect, Garret. I want the truth!"

"We all do, Garret."

Garret jerked back at Dusk's voice, but then let out a sigh, dipping his head into his hands.

He lifted his head up, licking his lips. "All right, the truth then." He rubbed his hands together, "So, after Quela's whole 'make a new First Flame' idea spectacularly failed, Gwyn was left in a very tight spot. The original First Flame was still fading out. Now, I don't know what else he tried to do, but in the end, he decided on one, single option. To burn himself within the First Flame, using his Lord Soul—what was left of it—as fuel for the fire."

Garret sucked in a breath, "But it was an imperfect solution. Years, millennia after he turned himself into kindling, the Fire started to fade again. Now, sometime between Gwyn burning himself and the Fire fading for the second time, the gods and other higher beings of Anor Londo performed a mass exodus—because fuck solidarity, I guess—save for three. Ornstein, the Captain of Gwyn's knights, Smough, an executioner turned knight, and Gwyndolin, Gwyn's youngest son." He held his hands out, "I know you probably haven't heard of him, and for good reason, since he's considered a black sheep in the family because he was born under the Moon, not the Sun." He shook his head, "Sorry, off-tangent. Anyway, Gwyndolin is loyal to his father above all else, and he didn't want to see Gwyn's sacrifice go to waste. So, he developed a scheme to keep Gwyn's dream alive."

"See, the thing about Undead is that, though they start out pitifully weak, they can—as you all know—absorb souls to become stronger; perhaps, as strong as a god. However, the Undead Curse is, above all else, a curse, and will, if you aren't careful, drive you mad. But—and this important," he stressed, "it's a curse that hadn't popped up until the Fire started to fade; ergo the two phenomena are linked. Thus, he spreads a rumor, the beginnings of a legend. Of a 'Chosen Undead' that can, somehow, cure the Undead Curse by travelling through Lordran. With the ultimate goal being to dupe them into entering the Kiln of the First Flame and using that now massive soul of theirs to feed the Flame once more. And I," Garret clenched his fists, "I can't just let some innocent get tricked into burning themselves. At the very least, I know what I'm getting into."

Garret ended his speech with a huff, cocking a brow as after a moment of silence, "…Really, no reactions whatsoever? Did you not hear what I just said?"

Havel chuckled, "They heard you; it's just that Frampt told them the whole tale first."

Garret let out a breath, "You know, I forgot about him, in light of everything that had happened." He furrowed his brow, "Wait, then why—"

"We—I," Oscar corrected, "wanted to hear that same tale from your mouth." He was silent for a moment, "I…I can't say that I wholly forgive you, for what you allowed to happen," he took off his helmet, sternly staring into Garret's eyes, "But…I can understand the stress you've had to carry, since this quest began." Slowly, he held his hand out."

Garret stared at the offered appendage, pursing his lips. "Oscar…that's…I thank you, all of you," he added, "for your understanding, but that doesn't erase what I've done, how I've acted."

"How?" Solaire spoke up, "have you acted?"

Garret looked down at his feet, "I've used you—and others—to streamline the path to  _my_ goal."

"Yes, that is true," Dusk said, earning a few perplexed glances. Undeterred, she continued, "You have surrounded yourself with strong, experienced people to better accomplish your mission. But," she stepped closer, "You've also acted with kindness, treating them and others around you with respect and admiration for their skills. You certainly did not need to be so cordial with me, if you simply meant to use me for my knowledge, nor warn Beatrice of her potential death had she continued on her path in her own time." She smiled softly, "I don't know why you see yourself as such, but you are not some callous monster that throws away others for his convenience." She gestured at him, "You forget things, yes, and you've certainly made some bad decisions; but that just means you are human."

Garret smiled gratefully at Dusk, turning back to Oscar's offered hand. With a sigh, he grasped it with his own, giving it a firm shake.

"Ok great, you're all friends again," Kirk drawled, "But we've got a more pressing matter to attend to."

Garret blinked, "Oh, yeah." He brushed past Oscar and Dusk, "Well, the Darkwraiths should disappear once we head through the fog behind you. But there is another phantom I'd like to, well, warn of their potential death."

"Oh, well that too." Kirk pushed himself off the wall, "But I'm talking about the startling rumor that you can shoot  _Black Fire_  from the hand of yours."

Garret blanched, "Ah…that."

"So, it's' true," Siegmeyer intoned.

Garret lifted his hand up, summoning his Pyromancy Flame, "Yeah…going to assume you met with the guy I burned." He flexed his hand, and a huge blast of dark flames burst forth from his palm.

At once, Kirk drew his blade, leveling it at Garret's throat, earning indignant shouts from everyone else. "No! None of you know how dangerous this is! It would have been bad enough if you did it on accident," he pressed his blade closer to Garret, a few of the spikes digging into his neck, "But to do it on purpose? It's only a matter of time until you go feral."

"That's a fair statement," Garret gulped, wincing as the action drew pinpricks of blood. "But I doubt that's going to happen."

"Oh? You saying you've seen yourself stay sane in your visions?"

"Actually," Garret licked his lips, "This is something I didn't see coming. Not this early at least," he said under his breath.

"So, we're in brand new territory." Kirk stepped closer, holding his blade in both hands, "Well, I like to be safer than sorry."

"That's enough!" Havel shouted, grabbing the blade out of Kirk's hand (Garret immediately stepped back, only pausing when Dusk's hands pressed up against his back), "Garret seems to have a handle on this."

Kirk stood chest-to-chest with Havel, pointing a thorny finger at him, "You don't know the things I've seen! I'm telling you, if we just let this slide, he'll only become a problem further down the road!"

Havel stood to his full height, a couple feet taller than even Siegmeyer. He let out his signature growl, "And I'm telling  _you_ , Garret is not like the rabid dogs you used to associate with." He turned to face Garret, and his voice softened, "I've the utmost confidence that he will not lose himself."

Kirk decided against another retort, instead wrenching his blade from Havel's grasp. With a harsh breath, he turned towards Garret, "If you give me even one reason, I will cut you down."

Garret rubbed his neck, "Well, it'll be more like flaying me," he muttered, but he nodded nonetheless.

Then, he turned to Dusk, an unidentifiable look on his face, "Dusk…after we get settled in Anor Londo, I'd like to talk, alone."

She gasped softly, stepping back, a blush settling across her face. "O-of course," she stammered, looking pointedly at Siegmeyer. He took the hint, taking off the ring, and sending her back to her time.

Garret stared at the spot Dusk disappeared from for a moment. He then clapped his hands together, rubbing them, "All right! Now all that's left is to summon Tarkus and kill the golem just outside."

"Tarkus," Oscar repeated the name a few times, "You mentioned him before, just before we met Siegmeyer."

Siegmeyer hummed, "I've heard of him. A Berenike knight of great renown, disappeared after contracting the Curse some decades ago."

"Well," Garret smiled, "He's here, and he will be of great of help. Or he'll die without having accomplished anything," he added with a shrug. "Either way, great time!"

**A/N: So, next chapter, whenever that comes out, will be about the Iron Golem fight and the group's first steps into Anor Londo. Yay~! Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30:

Over the Hurdle

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

**Line Break**

Solaire hummed as he stepped back, a tall pillar of light erupting from the glowing script on the floor. "That should do it," he said.

Within moments, a figure arose from the pillar—covered head-to-toe in thick, black iron, it could be none other than Tarkus, the famous Berenike knight.

The light dissipated, leaving him free to look around. If he was shocked by the large group before him, he didn't show it; though he did pause to stare up at Havel.

Garret stepped forward, waving his hands, "Hey, Tarkus! Can you understand me?"

The Black Iron knight tilted his head downwards, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding.

Garret smiled, "Great!" He clapped his hands together, "Now, there's only one thing I want you to do," his smile dropped, a heavy stare replacing it, "Do not attempt to breach Anor Londo."

Soliare grunted, wondering where Garret was taking this.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, 'the hell is this guy to tell me what to do?' Well," he spread his arms widely, "I'm the same guy that knows that after slaying the Iron Golem, three bat demons," Solaire was sure he'd heard that wrong, "take you up to the outskirts of the city. From there, you fight your way past one, potentially three, huge, giant, really, guards wielding halberds and shield. To the left is an opening that leads down to a Bonfire, the only other person there being a woman in brass armor with a long mohawk attached to her helmet." He ended his speech with a huff, cocking a brow at Tarkus, "This mean anything to you?"

Tarkus was still for a long moment, until finally gesturing for Garret to continue.

Garret sighed, "Look, just, stay at the Bonfire and wait for us, okay. I'll be able to give us, all of us," he gestured to the group, "a safe-way to the main palace. Okay?"

Tarkus nodded his head slowly.

The smile returned to Garret's face, "Great!" he turned, facing the rest of them, "Okay, the worst thing about the Golem is that he hits hard and we're fighting him over a pit, otherwise he's very easy to avoid and counterattack. Aim for the knees and, if we're lucky, he'll end up stumbling over the edge. Oh!" he snapped his fingers, "Watch out for the energy wave he throws out at the beginning." With that said, Garret pushed gently pushed past Siegmeyer and Beatrice, leading them forward.

Solaire nudged Oscar on the shoulder, "Glad to see he's alright."

His fellow Astoran nodded, "Yeah," he chuckled, "glad we've managed to work through all that. Plus," he shrugged, moving forward "it helps that he's genuinely sorry about it all."

Walking along, Solaire refused to think about what might have happened had Garret not been so.

He joined the rest of them just in front of the fog door. Garret sighed, looking over his shoulder, "We all set?"

A series of nods and affirmative grunts were his answers. With that, they walked through the fog.

As soon the mist cleared, Solaire got a good view of their foe. It truly lived up the name of 'Golem'. Easily taller than a house, it was covered in dark armor not unlike Tarkus's, wielding an equally imposing, slightly chipped axe in its left hand.

It stepped back, bringing its axe-hand up to its right shoulder.

To his right, Garret sucked in a breath, "Hit the dirt!" he exclaimed.

Solaire did so with gusto, as the rest of the group—rather, all but two.

Instead of ducking down, Havel and Tarkus ran ahead—stopping just a foot in front of Beatrice and Kirk—each holding their shield in both hands. With a mighty roar, Havel slammed his shield in the ground, bracing. Tarkus did the same, albeit much more quietly.

By then, the Golem had swung its axe, and just as Garret said, a wave of transparent energy zoomed forward, causing the air to ripple around it.

It crashed mightily against the impromptu stone-and-iron shield wall, pushing the Bishop and Knight back, but they stood nonetheless.

Garret quickly stood to his feet, "All right! Now all we have to do is—" he paused as a shadow briefly blocked the sun.

Solaire whipped his head up, idly noting Garret's curse, catching sight of a dark brown sphere soaring through the air. He followed its arc, ending with it crashing against the Golem, covering it in searing orange flames and forcing it to step back.

"Wait, what?" Garret said.

Another sphere crashed into the Golem, this time followed by a boulder coming in from the left, knocking it off balance, another set of spheres and boulders knocked it off its precarious perch, tumbling into the forest below.

Solaire smiled, looking between the two giants above him and to his left, "I say, it looks like our friends are watching out for us?"

Garret whirled around, "Friends?!"

"Oh, right, you missed that," Beatrice said, standing up and dusting herself off, "Havel had a nice chat with the giant dropping boulders on the hammer thingy."

Suddenly, Havel started speaking in that terribly haunting language, " _No doubt thanking the giants_ ," Solaire mused.

Garret blinked, "That's what that is? I thought…well I don't know what I thought."

Suddenly, there was a burst of light from where the Golem fell, and a thin beam of light curved up towards the group. Siegmeyer yelped, falling on his back as he scuttled away from the light. Not that he really needed to, since the light vanished after hitting the ground, leaving an oblong, jagged white flame in its place. It looked a bit familiar, if Solaire were being honest.

"Hmm, so that's how that works," Garret muttered, walking forward.

Solaire peered at the object, "Is that…it's soul?"

"Yeah," Garret said as he picked it up, "It's core was formed out of dragon bone, just so you know."

"Really?" Beatrice said, eyeing the soul.

Garret nodded, pocketing the item, "Really. Not…entirely sure how that works, but if we take it to this Giant Blacksmith in Anor Londo, he can forge either the Golem's axe, or a dragon bone gauntlet."

"Wait, Boram's alive?" Havel suddenly said.

Garret frowned, "That's his name?" he then shook his head, "Wait, yes, he is. Didn't Nito…okay," he huffed, "after we get to Anor Londo, you and I need to sit down and go over what we know. Speaking of the Lord, where's his bird?"

Havel shrugged, and Solaire was briefly left wondering which bird he was referring to. Until his recalled Benito. After which he promptly blushed upon realizing the possible connection between Nito and Be _nito_ , wondering how he didn't see it sooner—a quick look around revealed that Siegmeyer, at least, had just come to the same realization as well.

"Hey!" Kirk suddenly interrupted, "Two things. One, your glowing friends gone," Solaire noted that, indeed, Tarkus's time had run out, "and two, how are we supposed to get to Anor Londo?" He crossed his arms, "Cause the door on the other side of the walkway is utterly trashed, and I can't climb worth a damn."

Garret smirked, "Oh! Well that's easy, we'll just…" he trailed off, face slowly morphing into an uneasy cringe. He sighed, looking at Oscar, "…I am so sorry for what's about to happen."

Before Oscar—or anyone for that matter—could ask Garret what he meant, the man had turned around, moving towards the center of the walkway.

He kneeled down, running his hand along the ground. Solaire walked forward, grunting at the glowing circle floating just above the stone. How long had that been there, he wondered.

Just then, Beatrice cried out in shock, "What the hell is that!"

Solaire whirled around, recoiling at the…thing floating off to the left. It looked sickly, thin as a twig and its skin white as snow—save for its arms, which were a disconcerting shade of crimson. The wings that held it aloft were as pale as the rest of it, and very much like a bat's, leathery and more than a little transparent, offering a clear view of its blood vessels. But it's most disturbing feature by far was its face, if you could call it that. The only thing's even remotely similar with the average face were its nose, long and sharp, and its mouth, which was pulled back into a fanged, uneven grin. After that…its forehead bulged our obscenely, wrinkled in a way that suggested its brain lied just beneath its skin, and a pair of long antennae grew out from its back, stopping just below its back. To say nothing of the fact that, and Solaire shuddered just thinking about it, it lacked eyes.

There was a thump to his right, and another of these things had landed on a pillar. After that, he felt something push against his chest, sending him stumbling backwards.

Looking up revealed it to be Garret, who'd pushed him out of the way of a third of the creatures. This one crouched lowly before Garret, hissing lightly.

"I don't believe it," Solaire heard Kirk whisper.

"What?" Havel asked, and Solaire could hear him move his shield onto his back, allowing a stronger grip on his hammer.

"These things…they're demons."

"Outside Izalith?"

"We've met other demons outside Izalith," Oscar added with a whisper.

"Yes, but this many?" Siegmeyer added.

"Hey, I'm as surprised as you," Kirk replied, "I'd heard they all died after Gwyn's war." There was a slight pause, "Course, since they have wings, guess it makes sense that they'd just fly off and never come back."

"…Think you can manage that?" It was then that Solaire realized Garret had been conversing with the demon.

It turned around, fixing its eyeless gaze on him and the rest of their friends. It looked to the demon on the pillar, roaring at it.

The other demon growled in turn, pushing off the ground and soaring into the clouds, after which the first demon turned back to Garret, nodding at him.

Garret, careful of the demon, walked forward, stopping to help Solaire off the ground.

"Ah, thank you. I must say, a bit of warning would have been nice."

Garret smiled sheepishly, tugging at his collar, "Funny you say that." He cleared his throat, looking at everyone else, "Okay, these guys," he gestured to the demons, "Are going to help us get up to Anor Londo." At the end of the statement, he settled an apologetic on Oscar.

After a moment, the Knight gasped, holding his hands out, "Absolutely not!"

"It's the only way there," Garret quickly countered.

"I-I-I could climb up the mountain!"

"Are you an avid climber?" Garret said with a cocked brow.

Instead of replying, Oscar pressed on, "Or maybe…clean up that gate!"

"Good luck with that," Kirk snidely remarked.

"W-W-What about a pulley?" he asked in his most desperate tone yet.

Siegmeyer hummed, gently patting Oscar on the back, "I'm afraid you aren't getting out of this."

Oscar panted for a moment, before snapping his fingers, "I could just not go! Don't have to fly if I don't enter Anor Londo!"

Solaire had to admit, he had a point. Plus, it's not like he'd have nothing to do, what with Anastacia now able to see and talk.

But then Garret looked down, rubbing his arms, "Yeah but…I mean, you and I started this whole thing, I'd appreciate it if you were with me."

Solaire smiled at Garret's bashful tone.

It seemed to affect Oscar as well, who clutched his helmet and groaned. "…Fine," he ground out.

Garret smiled widely but was cut off from saying anything as the demon from before dropped down behind him, followed by near a dozen others.

Garret looked over his shoulder, then back at them, "Alright," he sighed, "Who's up first?"

Oscar immediately stepped back, obviously still uneasy about his next flight. Havel soon stepped forward, and, though Solaire couldn't be one hundred percent sure, he saw the demon's shoulders sag when he stopped beside Garret.

Seeing no one else eager to volunteer, Solaire offered to go next.

He heard Siegmeyer come up next, but the demon hissed lowly, holding its palm out.

Solaire immediately figured out what the demon meant, as did Siegmeyer, given his boisterous laugh, "Fair enough, fair enough," he said, patting the 'belly' of his armor.

The lead demon nodded, accentuated by a harsh grunt.

Garret huffed, clapping the Bishop and knight on their shoulders, "Good luck," he said, stepping backwards.

Before Solaire could reply, two demons suddenly zoomed towards him. Instinctually, he reached for his blade, but stopped as one of the demons held out its hands in the universal symbol of 'wait'.

Still floating in the air, they slowly moved forward, coming up on either side of him. Roughly, they latched onto his arms, and he could not suppress the yelp that tore through his lips as he was lifted up into the air.

Solaire flailed his legs a bit as he soared higher and higher, the clouds turning his surroundings into a white, endless void.

Then, light started to filter through the clouds. Solaire could recognize that warm, golden glow anywhere.

And lo, there it was. The Sun, something had had not seen—not truly, considering the clouds that always hung over Lordran—in a long time.

And lying before it, basking in its heavenly glow, was Anor Londo. Truly, the stories didn't do it justice. Tall, golden spires everywhere, all standing watch—with the main palace towering over all. Truly, a city fit for the gods—well, the one remaining god, at least.

But Solaire didn't dwell on that terrible fact. No, he turned his focus to the rapidly approaching ground—atop a wall, he noted.

He tilted his head up, making note of the looser grips the demons were sporting. He clicked his tongue, clenching his fists and tensing his muscles. Yet that was not wholly necessary, as the demons deposited him not a foot off the rampart.

He landed with a grunt, turning to give his thanks, only to be left with his hand awkwardly hanging in the air as the demons soared back into the clouds.

Thus, he turned back to the Sun. Though saddened that all but one god had abandoned their duties, he pushed those thoughts back in favor of basking in those delightful golden rays, standing on his toes, arms held up above him.

He hummed a joyful, wordless tune, only stopping at the loud thud from behind him. He dropped his pose, turning to see Havel take a shaky step forward.

The demigod moaned, "I…I never thought I'd see this city again." Solaire smiled at the palpable joy in his tone. That smile disappeared, however, as Havel's next words fell back to his usual growl, "How could they just abandon it all!"

Solaire coughed into his hand, "Well, I'm sure you can knock some sense into them all when all this is said and done."

"Knock some teeth out, more like," Havel grumbled as he crossed his arms.

Solaire chuckled, letting the conversation end there.

Soon after, the demons dropped off Beatrice, Siegmeyer, and Kirk.

"Woah," the witch whispered in awe.

"Amazing," the Catrinanan mumbled.

The ex-Darkwraith said nothing, though he did let loose a long whistle.

Solaire agreed with all their assessments.

Finally, Garret and Oscar dropped down beside them. Garret looked none the worse for wear, though Oscar...

He'd fallen to his knees, hands curled up into fists, chest heaving and body shaking. Were it not for the helmet, Solaire was certain there'd be sweat dripping from his brow.

Garret knelt down beside him, "See, wasn't so bad. Didn't even throw up this time."

Oscar said nothing, panting heavily for another moment. He then slowly turned holding a finger up in Garret's face, "That…was the last time!"

Garret smirked, standing up and extending his hand, "Last time, I swear."

Oscar accepted the offered limb, rising to his feet.

Garret took a moment to pat that knight's shoulder, before facing the rest of the group, "Shall we?" he said, gesturing to the stairs leading down.

**Line Break**

"What…is that?" Havel asked, staring at the large halberd-wielding figure in unfamiliar stone armor.

Garret grunted, pointing at the stationary sentinel, "That's a," he paused, tapping his chin, "a Sentinel."

Havel hummed, "Are they…demigods?" It made the most sense, and it would set his heart at ease, knowing that there were others with a sense duty than Gwyndolin, Ornstein and Smough.

"Oh, no, these guys are illusions made by Gwyndolin."

Havel jerked his head around, staring wide-eyed at Garret, "Come again?"

"Illusions?" Siegmeyer repeated, bewildered.

Garret nodded, "Yeah, I mean, it's still solid and will defend itself. But every single Sentinel in Anor Londo is part of an elaborate illusion made by Gwyndolin for the sake of keeping up appearances."

Havel slowly turned back towards the illusion, impressed that Gwyn's youngest child was capable of such a thing—when he'd been exiled, the young god had only just begun to understand the depth of his abilities, barely capable of forming little balls of blue light.

"So…do we have to fight it?"

Garret hummed, tapping his foot, "If we're careful, no." That said, he slowly crept forward and sideways, towards a—familiar, but not wholly so—building's entrance. When the illusion made no movements, he motioned for the others to follow.

As they entered the building, Havel took note of the statue of Ornstein at one end, frowning, "That isn't right," he muttered.

"Hm, what was that?" Beatrice asked.

Havel ignored her, memories surging forward, "None of this is right…"

"Havel, what's wrong?"

Havel scowled, looking back where they came, "…None of this is right," he repeated.

Something jostled his shoulder. Looking to his left revealed it to be Beatrice, "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

Havel shook his head, "Sorry, it's just…this place should be barracks, not this empty space. And that rampart," he turned towards the entrance, "it shouldn't be enclosed like that…there should have been a ladder leading down into the wall, and a pathway leading along it."

Kirk grunted, "Obviously, they've redecorated since you've left."

Havel scoffed, "Sure, but why? The barracks are one thing; no point in maintaining it when everyone's run off," he stopped the growl rising through his throat, "But why change the architecture of the rampart?"

"Maybe it has to do with their plot," Siegmeyer suddenly said.

"What do you mean?" Beatrice asked.

The onion knight shrugged, "Well, it's just, if this whole 'Chosen Undead' business is a ploy created by Gwyndolin, then it makes sense that he'd want to keep them from wasting time exploring the entire wall." He crossed his arms, "In fact, and this is just conjecture, I'd imagine the majority of the architecture has changed since you've been gone, to better funnel Undead towards Gwyndolin's

Havel tilted his head, "…I suppose that makes sense." He didn't want it to, but it did.

"Well, that's one way to look at things," Garret muttered ahead of them.

Oscar lightly nudged the sorcerer, but he shook his head, leading them forward.

Once they exited the modified barracks, Havel immediately caught sight of Seath's archives, blood rising to a boil. He clenched his fist, walking along with the rest of the group after a moment.

Soon, justice would finally come to pass.

**A/N: Jesus…30 chapters. Been a long time. I'd just like to take a moment to thank all of you for coming along for the ride. I know I don't have the most consistent schedule, so I appreciate the dedication. That being said, I think this might be the halfway point. Maybe. Hopefully.**

**Up next, a nice, big reunion with a bunch of people who thought they'd never see the other party ever again. As always, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31:

Surprising Reunions

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

**Line Break**

Garret scratched his head as he stared down the staircase leading down to the Anor Londo bonfire. It was only now, physically being there, that he wondered exactly  _what_  purpose this room was supposed to serve. Sure, from a meta perspective, it's just a room meant to hold the bonfire and the Darkmoon Knightess. But what about from this current perspective? Why have a room that leads to a brick wall?

He must have been frowning harder than he realized, because Siegmeyer came up beside him, "I say, what is the matter?"

Garret grunted, gesturing down the stairs, "It's this room. It ends at a brick wall."

Siegmeyer hummed, craning his head to look at the outer structure, "Another one of Gwyndolin's decorative splurges, then?"

Garret shrugged, taking the first steps down, "I suppose so".

He heard the Bonfire crackle as he neared the end of the stairs, and it actually glowed a bit brighter when he took the last step. The firelight danced off the armor—black iron and yellow brass—of the room's two occupants.

Garret eyed the Darkmoon Knightess—idly wondering what her name would end up being—before settling his gaze on Tarkus. He sat with his left leg tucked underneath him, his right knee bent up to prop up his arm, which itself was propping up his head.

Garret hummed,  _"Now how to wake him up_?" he wondered.

_SHINK_

Garret whirled around, frowning at the sight of the Firekeeper holding her sword in her hands, along with a talisman. She wasn't being particularly aggressive about it—she held the sword horizontally, as if she were inspecting or cleaning it—but it was easy to tell that she was preparing for a fight.

Before Garret could assuage her doubts, however, clanking armor turned his attention back to Tarkus.

The knight grunted, slowly shaking his head. He then lifted his head up, "Ah, it's you!"

Garret blinked, had he heard that correctly?

Tarkus stood, extending his hand over the Bonfire, "Hello. Name's Tarkus. Also known as 'Black Iron Tarkus', don't know how that got spread—er," he looked down at his armor, poking at with his free hand, "never mind on that, actually."

Garret continued to stare, astonished. Tarkus's voice…it was so  _soft_. It had an almost musical tone to it. He expected something closer to Andre, not…a less raspy Queleia.

"Er, friend?" Tarkus's words shook him from his reverie, "Arm's starting to get a bit hot—fire and what not."

Garret smiled, readily shaking his hand, "Tarkus! So good to finally meet you!"

"Likewise!" he placed his hands on his hips, lifting up a bit on his toes, "So, all these folks are friends of yours?"

Garret nodded, "I'd introduce you but," he cast a sidelong glance at the woman in brass, "We've got some things we need to take care of first."

Tarkus followed his gaze, nodding, "Fair enough, seem like a man with a plan. Fair warning though," he leaned closer, "Woman's not the best conversationalist. Or anything-ist, really."

Garret nodded, thanking Tarkus. He then walked closer to the Knightess, who had stepped forward from the wall, tightly gripping her talisman and Estoc, her hardened gaze, previously on Havel and Kirk, now boring into him.

Garret took a deep breath. "Two things," he said, holding up two fingers, "Yes, they are Bishop Havel the Rock and Kirk, Knight of Thorns, and yes, they are with me, the 'Chosen Undead'." The woman rolled her shoulders, raising her blade slightly, "Now, can you be a dear and take us to Gwyndolin?" he tried not to smirk as she stilled. "You know, the guy—girl?" he waited a moment for her to answer, but when she stayed frozen, he continued, "well, we'll figure out preferred pronouns later—who spends their days in Gwyn's empty mausoleum?"

Within a blink, she lifted her sword, pressing it against his neck.

Garret raised his hands placatingly, surreptitiously signaling that he was fine.

The woman snarled, leaning in closer, "Who are you?!"

Garret took a steadying breath, "I'm the guy who's going to burn himself alive to keep the Fire going." He held a hand out, "And you are?"

Her grip slackened slightly, "H-How…?"

Garret huffed, "Long story. I'd be happy to tell you and Gwyndolin all about it…" he trailed off, rapidly shifting his eyes between her and her blade.

She grunted, slowly removing her blade, "…My name is Elena," she eventually said, sheathing her weapon.

Garret smiled, rubbing his neck, "Thanks for not breaking the skin."

She grunted, walking past him. She stopped in front of Havel, sizing him up, before gesturing to the Bonfire, "You all might as well rest here," and pushing past the group, stopping at the foot of the stairs, allowing the humans and demigod to rest at the Bonfire.

Behind him Tarkus whistled, "I must say, you've got quite a pair on you. I'd be pissing my pants in that situation."

Garret eyed the knight incredulously, "Er, I think you're selling yourself a little short."

Tarkus waved his hands, "Ah, I misspoke. I mean if I were dressed as you, with an unprotected neck." He tapped a gloved finger against his own, heavily armored, neck, "Father always said 'if you can't have a thick, strong, neck, have a thick sheet of metal protecting it'." He lifted his head up, eyeing the group, "Hmm…looks like rest of you have that down. Except for you miss," he pointed to Beatrice, "and you," he pointed to Kirk. "Although, I suppose sharp spikes protruding from and one's neck and shoulder and, well, entire body, might make a suitable substitute."

Beatrice surreptitiously rubbed her neck, but Kirk was too busy staring at the now-named Elena to respond to Tarkus's. "What makes you so special?" he muttered scornfully.

Elena slowly turned her head, "Did you say something, sinner?"

Oscar leaned forward, "Kirk, what are you doing?"

But the knight ignored him, pressing forward, "I know two Firekeepers. Neither of them could so much as talk, much less strut around with a blade."

Before Elena could answer, Garret stepped forward, carefully placing a hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Kirk," he said, "She's got her own problems."

"Sure doesn't look like it!"

"Kirk," Garret repeated forcefully, "Now is  _not_  the time!"

Kirk levelled a glare at Garret, before grunting, shaking Garret's hand off. "Fine," he groused.

Garret sighed, turning around and plastering a smile on his face, "I think we're ready!"

Elena said nothing, simply turning on her heel and walking up the steps.

**Line Break**

"Is that a Gargoyle?"

Garret blinked, "Huh…I'd forgotten about those two."

Oscar whipped his head around, "Come again?"

"That's news to me as well," Elena said from ahead of them, "I'd thought this one was sterile."

"They can breed?" he could not help but blurt out.

"Oh yes," Elena drawled, "Not often—thankfully—but they breed as well as any beast."

"But you said there was only one."

"Some beasts can reproduce by themselves," Beatrice chimed in. "You don't see it often, but they exist. Titanite Lizards, Moonlight Butterfly's, Ents," she listed.

"Are Ents beasts, or plants?" Siegmeyer suddenly asked.

"Maybe some sort of hybrid," Tarkus suggested.

"What would those be called, bants?"

"Plasts?"

The two hummed in thought, before gasping. "Pleasts!" the exclaimed together. The two large knights stared at one another, before coming close, clasping each other's shoulders and laughing heartily.

"Good lord, they're multiplying," Kirk observed as he—along with Solaire and Havel—stepped off the elevator.

Solaire, upon noticing the gargoyle, sighed, "…At least we don't have to worry about falling off a roof this time around."

"Yeah, but there is not as much space to maneuver, and there are far more of us now than last time. More likely to get in someone's way."

"Good thing four of us can attack from afar," Oscar said, pulling out his bow.

"Question is, who among us will keep the beast occupied."

"Well," Tarkus stepped forward, unsheathing his blade and hoisting his shield, "don't know about you all, but I need to shake off some rust."

"I shall join you," Siegmeyer said, gripping his blade in both hands.

Oscar looked behind him. Kirk was too busy glaring daggers at Elena, who replied in kind, so they were out. Havel…he was too busy staring out at the city, oblivious to everything else. Oscar decided to let him be. He said to the two knights, "At your start."

Siegmeyer and Tarkus nodded, striding forward. "Have you faced one of these before?" the Onion knight asked.

The Black Iron knight nodded, "Fought one of them down at that Parish."

"Ah, us as well! Two, in fact."

Tarkus whipped his head around, but before he could say anything, Garret blurted out, "Quick note. These gargoyles shoot lightning instead of fire."

At that Tarkus nodded, "Well, this won't be much help," he said, moving his shield onto his back, now holding his great sword in a two-handed grip.

"No good against lightning, eh? Likewise," Siegmeyer chuckled good-naturedly.

"Wish someone'd told me about that first time I fought a rouge cleric. You know, I still get twitches on my toes. Only the pinkies though."

"A cleric, lucky dog! My first foray with lightning was a drake."

Tarkus gasped, "Truly?!"

Siegmeyer nodded, but whatever else he had to say would have to wait, since the Gargoyle had finally taken notice of the duo. It slammed its halberd onto the ground, roaring into the air. It then jumped, wings flapping to grant it extra height, and quickly dove down, cleaving the air as it aimed at the two knights. The two dodged out of the way, but in an expert display of dexterity, the beast adjusted its grip, now aiming solely at Tarkus. It might have hit him too, were it not for the arrow that lodged into its eyes, forcing it into an awkward stumble towards the ground.

Oscar drew another arrow, wincing slightly as a lightning bolt soared just a hair closer by his face than he was comfortable with. "Oops, sorry, Oscar!" Solaire said as his Miracle struck true.

Oscar huffed, returning his focus to the battle ahead of them. The first thing he noticed was that the Gargoyle's tail had been cut off, flopping uselessly on the ground. Siegmeyer, evidently remembering their last tussle with a Gargoyle, grabbed the tail. He roared, swinging the impromptu weapon upward, slamming it into the monster's armored jaw. To Oscar's shock, the blow actually  _lifted_  the Gargoyle into the air, which allowed Tarkus to swing his sword downwards, impacting the beast's chest with an audible  _CRACK_ , slamming it back into the ground. It moaned in pain, which quickly turned into dying gasps as Siegmeyer and Tarkus stabbed their blades downwards, metal sinking into stony flesh.

It disappeared in a flash of light, and Oscar sighed as in influx of Souls entered his being.

"Well, that was something," Elena drawled from the back. She might have been impressed, but her voice was so flat Oscar honestly couldn't tell.

Garret hummed, looking back at her, "Don't suppose you have a way to bring that down," he said, pointing to the hollowed-out pillar at the end of the walkway.

"Afraid not," Elena replied.

Garret sighed at that, turning his head to the left. He frowned, "Guess I'm doing this the hard way. Don't," he held his hand up when Solaire and Beatrice moved to follow, "it'll be easier if I do this alone." With that said, he hopped down the walkway, carefully moving onto an archway leading to the building across from them.

Siegmeyer and Tarkus had returned by the time Garret made it to the building, breaking a glass window to gain access to the interior. Siegmeyer lifted his hand, holding out the Gargoyle's weapon, "Anyone in need of a halberd?" When no one spoke up, he shrugged, and placed the weapon in his pouch.

"Woah!" Tarkus exclaimed, "That's some fancy magic!"

Siegmeyer nodded heartily, "Yes. You should be able to do the same thing."

Tarkus titled his head, sheathing his blade and reaching for the satchel at his waist. He cried out when his arm sank into it. "My word! Are you all seeing this?!" He pulled his arm out, shocked at the burned Black Knight blade in his grasp, "How does this even work?"

Beatrice frowned, "You know…I've never actually looked into that. I've heard of similar enchantments, but this one automatically spreads to…companions?" she ended with a furrowed brow, directed at Elena.

The Firekeeper stayed still, finally groaning when everyone started to stare at her, "Fine." She opened her own satchel, peering into it, "…Only what I put in it," she replied.

Beatrice hummed, hefting her own satchel, "So what makes us special?"

"Perhaps it senses our friendship relative to Garret?" Siegmeyer suggested.

Beatrice crossed her arms, "That's…how would that even work? What spell could possible gauge something as nebulous as friendship?"

A shrug, "You're the sorceress."

Beatrice rolled her eyes in response, staying silent.

"RIEAGGH!"

"SHIT!"

Eight heads whirled around, finding their way to the top of the elevated pillar. Soon after, Garret slammed into the railing, turning around and waving his arms, "Missed me!" he exclaimed. There was another roar, and the young man dove to the side, but still had his back to the railing, as lightning blasted where he stood. "Wanna go for three?!"

"The hell is he doing?" Elena hissed., "He should focus on lowering the pillar!"

"Garret tends to know what he's doing," Solaire stated.

"Yet when he doesn't, it goes poorly," Kirk added.

Only one such instance came to Oscar's mind; unfortunately, that one instance went really,  _really_  poorly. Thank…well, certainly not the gods, not after all they'd done—rather, failed to do…it all worked out in the end.

Back with Garret, a broad, winged figure—the second gargoyle—had jumped into the air, halberd held overhead.

"He's going to die."

Oscar ignored Elena, though he did clench his fist when then gargoyle dove down, and Garret had yet to move.

Then, finally, Garret dove to the side, leading the Gargoyle to smash the railing. The beast then extended its wings, flapping them so as to keep it from falling. It was during this time that Garret rushed forward, bringing out his blade and hacking at the beast's tail. He was forced to back away when the gargoyle swung it's fist back in an attempt to strike him. But this didn't keep him away for long; he ran forward to meet the beast once more, holding his free hand in front of him. Then, an explosion of darkness.

_SHINK_

"Wait do—urp!"

Oscar whirled around, drawing his blade. Thankfully, Elena hadn't killed anyone. Unfortunately, she's drawn a dagger, and had Solaire by the neck, the blade pressed against his neck. Scratch that, digging into the space between his helmet and his collarbone.

"Elena," Beatrice drew her staff, blue energy swirling at its tip, "Let him go."

"Not fucking likely!" the Firekeeper hissed.

"Are you alright Solaire?" Siegmeyer asked. He hadn't drawn his weapon—neither had Tarkus or Havel.

"Could be better."

"Shut up!" Elena pressed the knife forward, drawing blood.

"Dig that knife any deeper, and you'll do that job for him." Kirk spat, blade held in two both hands.

"Um, could you not antagonize the woman holding me at knifepoint?"

"Afraid we're a bit past that friend," Tarkus said. Oscar noticed that he was slowly reaching for his satchel.

"Woman," Havel started to speak, prompting Elena to turn, stepping backwards and dragging Solaire with her, "think about what you're doing."

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing!" She laughed bitterly, "And if you all think I'm going to let you meet Master Gwyndolin without a fight, then you're madder than you're friend up there!"

"We're not mad," Beatrice ground out, staff glowing brighter than ever, "But I am going to be  _very_ cross if you keep threatening my friend."

Elena snarled, then howled in pain as a dagger embedded itself into her shoulder. She lowered her dagger, giving Solaire the opportunity to elbow her in the gut. As she bent over, gasping, he seized her arm, flipping her over, slamming her onto the ground. He then nodded at Tarkus, "Nice throw."

"Nice toss," the knight replied.

Elena moaned, which then turned into a growl as Kirk dropped down in front of her, pressing his blade against her neck. "Not so fun on the other side, huh? he sneered.

"Go ahead!" she shouted, "I'd sooner die than further assist you monsters!"

"Tempting as that maybe," Havel said, striding towards them, "I doubt Gwyndolin would appreciate us killing an ally." When Kirk made no effort to move, he added, "Nor would Queleia."

That drew out a small groan from Kirk, "Fine," he spat. "But someone come and get her weapons!"

Oscar and Solaire surged forward, Solaire grabbing her dropped knife, and Oscar cutting her sword from her belt.

_CREAK-BOOM_

Oscar looked up, blinking at the pillar spun downwards. After it connected with the walkway, Garret jogged forward. He stopped just in front of them, "Hey…what's going on?"

"Woman had a bit of a freak-out when you blasted that Gargoyle with  _black flames_ ," Kirk drawled, still holding his blade against Elena's neck.

"Bit of a shock to me as well," Tarkus said, hand raised. "But then I figured, 'hey, none of his friends are acting weird, must be a regular occurrence.'" He tilted his head, "It's not…regular, is it?"

Garret shrugged, "Fairly new, but I use it whenever the needs arises."

Tarkus hummed, "…Not for nothing friend, but do give me a wide berth if you plan on using that. My armor," he beat his breastplate, "was made to ward off fire. Once stood directly—well, not directly, had to protect the faceplate, more like in front of and slightly bent down—in front of a drake's flames. Only got somewhat burned after that. But those were normal flames—well, normal as dragon fire can be at any rate—don't know a thing about black fire. Though, I  _am_  wearing black iron, maybe the two cancel out? But then that'd leave iron and flames, and normal iron can't block flames very well at all, can it?" He took a breath, "Also—"

"Tarkus!" Garret interrupted the man with a loud clap, "You ever meet a god?"

"Hmmm…no, can't say I have. Met some men that claimed to be descendants of gods. Course, they were all—"

"Wanna meet one?" Garret none too gently interrupted the knight.

At that Tarkus shrugged, "Sure."

"No!" Elena shrieked, doing her best to squirm out from under Kirk, "Release me, vile sinner!"

Kirk cocked his head to the side, "Hmm…no." He punctuated the word by pushing he blade further against Elena's throat, making her gag.

"That's enough, Kirk" Havel intoned, stepping closer to them. "Get off of her."

The ex-Darkwraith shrugged, "If you say so." He slid off, prompting Elena to jump up and try and run. A futile effort, even if Havel hadn't reached his hand out to grab her by her metallic headdress.

"Oh no you don't," he said, pulling her back and tightly gripping her shoulder, "Don't want you doing anything stu—"

_THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK THUNK_

Oscar turned at the sound of heavy metal impacting on stone. Only to gasp as a figure leapt into the air from the top of the pillar, blocking out the sun.

"Oh shi—Scatter!" Garret yelled.

Oscar did not need to be told twice, quickly turning and running as the figure impacted the ground with a might  _BOOM_ , kicking up dust and breaking stone underfoot. As the dust cleared, the figure was revealed to be a massive, rotund man clad head-to-toe in smooth, golden armor. He stood, hefting a ginormous, similarly colored hammer over his shoulder. But the worst part about this new foe was his helmet, specifically the eyes. The helmet itself was stylized to look like a face, but blank as a statue, with eyes darker than the abyss. The beast of a man scanned the walkway, giggling as he twirled his hammer. Only to stop at Havel.

The Bishop, in turn, handed Elena off to Tarkus—who started to chatter nervously with the irate woman—walking forward and moving his hammer and shield from his back. "Smough," ah, so that's who this was, "it's been awhile."

Before Smough could reply, another shape blocked out the sun. Once more, a figure crashed into the ground, kicking up dust and stone. This figure could only be the famed Ornstein, and he could not be more different than his companion. Tall and lean, coming to a stop just below Smough's shoulders. His armor was similarly golden, but was built in segments, and his helmet was not even remotely human looking—stylized like a lion—with a long plume of red hair coming off the top. Instead of a huge hammer, he wielded a long spear with a bladed cross guard. He made no sound as he scanned his surroundings, though he too stiffened when catching sight of Havel.

"Ornstein," Havel said, keeping a tight grip on his arms, "it is good to see you again."

"H-Havel?" the demigod said in a surprisingly vulnerable voice. He then snarled, taking a step forward and holding onto his spear with both hands. "Have you fallen so far, old friend?!"

"I'd have fallen further were it not for them," Havel retorted.

Smough looked between the Bishop and Knight, seemingly unsure what to do. Ornstein, on the other hand, let loose a growl befitting his helmet, tightening his grip on his weapon.

Just then, Garret slid in, propping his elbow on the blade of Ornstein's spear. "Hey," he said, effecting a nonchalant tone and pulling off his helmet, "how's it going?"

"What the hell is he doing?" Beatrice whispered heatedly.

"Something stupid."

"He's not  _that_ suicidal, Kirk."

"Either way," Oscar said, holding his shield slightly forward, "prepare for a fight."

"With a pair of demigods?!"

"Bound to happen sooner or later," Siegmeyer added with a nervous chuckle.

Back with Garret—who signaled for the rest of them to stay back—Ornstein twitched, "Who the—"

"Name's Garret," the sorcerer said, holding his palm out, "I'm a seer, can look into the past, present, and future. I'm also the guy that can do this," he punctuated the word with and explosion of black fire.

That got a very abrupt reaction. Namely, Ornstein pulling his spear back and stabbing forward. Garret jumped to the side, then scrambled away from a blow of Smough's hammer. "Okay, probably shouldn't have led with that. But before this escalates further, can I say something?"

Ornstein snarled, drawing his spear back, lightning crackling along the blade.

"…Guess not," Garret gulped, before diving out of the way of a blast of lightning. This time, however, he was not able to avoid the hammer swinging into his side. He flew backwards with a harsh gasp.

That spurred the rest of them into action. Havel rushed for Ornstein, Siegmeyer roared, charging for Smough, and Oscar ran to help Garret. Solaire and Beatrice jumped back, charging their respective spells. Tarkus, with deceptive speed, easily caught up with Siegmeyer—a look over the shoulder revealed that he'd thrown the Firekeeper down onto the lower platform, just a tad too high for her to climb back up.

Oscar slid down, propping up Garret and pulling out a Flask. "Drink."

Garret quickly downed the liquid. "We can't kill them," he gasped.

Oscar shifted his gaze, "Might not have much choice in the matter," he dryly stated. Just in front of them was the, surprisingly graceful, dance that Siegmeyer, Tarkus, Kirk and Smough were engaged in. Tarkus, with his shield, could more-or-less reliably block the demigod's swings, giving Siegmeyer and Kirk enough time to dart in and strike. But, despite his girth, Smough was agile, and would block or dodge that majority of the attacks; those that did hit, more often than not slid off the armor.

Havel had entered a one-on-one duel with Ornstein. The golden clad Knight was far nimbler that the stone gray Bishop, but Havel's shield stood strong against the constant barrage of stabs, slashes, and lightning. Havel, for his part, wasn't swinging his hammer, so much as attempting to grab hold of his foe's spear.

Solaire and Beatrice stayed behind, just aside Oscar and Garret, peppering Smough and Ornstein with spells.

"We are  _not_  killing them," Garret stated, climbing to his feet.

"Ok," Oscar rose with him, "Any idea how to accomplish such a task?"

Garret looked down, hair shadowing his eyes. "…I got one idea." He then rushed forward, planting his feet just before the fighting men. "Gwyn's firstborn son is alive!" he shouted.

That caused the three demigods to freeze in their tracks.

"He's survived his exile," Garret continued.

"…If you seek to convince me of your madness, you're succeeding," Ornstein ground out.

"Yeah," Smough said, hefting his hammer over his shoulder, "I'm all for a good jest, but this…."

"Oh, just you wait," Havel chuckled wryly.

"He's massive, bout as tall as you, but a lot broader. He wields a massive sword spear, emphasis on the sword—it honestly looks like he just screwed a sword onto a staff. He wears a golden, multi-pronged crown atop his head, only three of which are visible when paired up with his stark white hair" Ornstein let out a choked gasp at that. "And years, years ago, after you all but eradicated the dragons, he found a feathered, multi-winged stormdrake, and forsook all that he knew to keep it safe."

Ornstein was trembling now, "H-H-How…"

"The same way I know that I'm going to burn myself alive to keep the world from falling to Darkness," Garret hissed.

" **Send him to me, my loyal Knight** ," a voice suddenly boomed around them.

"Woah!"

"Who the hell?

" **Silence, sinners! I would only speak with the one who claims to know secrets no mortal could possibly know**."

"Guess this must be Gwyndolin," Solaire said under his breath.

Gwyndolin either didn't hear him, or ended whatever means he—or was it she? Oscar was still a little puzzled by that—was using to communicate with everyone.

Garret just shrugged at Ornstein, "Well, you heard the man—woman? Which does Gwyndolin prefer?"

"Man," Smough easily replied.

Ornstein huffed, "Lord Gwyn—"

"Is currently burning to a crisp, and I plan on joining him," Garret deadpanned. As Ornstein blanched, Garret strode forward, "C'mon, we're burning daylight…well, not really, but you get the point."

"Um…hello?"

" **Ah yes. Executioner, would you kindly assist Elena**?"

Smough grunted, but stomped past the humans to where Elena waited nonetheless.

**A/N: Finally got this done. I, for one, can't wait to see what happens next! Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32:

Hard Truths

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

**Line Break**

Ornstein, Garret quickly found out, was not one for small-talk. And, though he couldn't really see anything past that helmet of his, he was sure the demigod was glowering at him. It was only when they reached the entryway to Gwyn's mausoleum that Ornstein did something. Namely, swing his spear around, pressing it against his neck—Garret idly considered following Tarkus's advice, and get stronger neck protection.

"If this turns out to be a trick, I will gut you and leave you for the dogs," the Knight growled lowly.

Garret scoffed, "Does the term 'Undead' mean anything to you?"

"Never said I'd kill you."

A pregnant silence hung between them, until Garret broke it with an awkward chuckle, "Hehehe…let's get going, hmm?"

Ornstein said nothing, but he did remove his weapon form Garret's neck. The young sorcerer sighed, rubbing his neck and entering the mausoleum. He immediately went for the Bonfire, and his face fell when, upon holding his hand out to light it, it did nothing. "Oh, c'mon! You paid by the hour or something?"

Ornstein slammed the butt of his spear against the marble floor, leaning down to glare at the Bonfire, "That is…odd." Just then, flames burst to life! The sudden expanse of heat forcing Ornstein back with a yelp, falling on his butt.

Garret barely suppressed a snicker as the Fire soothed his soul, "So, you're a comedian then?"

The flame, obviously, did not reply. But it did seem to glow brighter.

By then, Ornstein had gotten back up, angrily wiping soot off of his armor, "Don't do that again!" he snarled.

Garret scoffed, "Believe me, if I could control Bonfires, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

The Knight grunted, walking over to the tall statue of Gwyn at the end of the room. Only to pause when he caught sight of a corpse lying against the wall. "When did this get here?" he grumbled.

"Uh…you never saw it when you came to talk with Gwyndolin."

Ornstein turned to face the statue, shaking his head, "The Dark Sun is not fond of wasting time meeting face-to-face; not when magic can do the same task just as easily."

Garret hummed, crouching down in front of the corpse, "Probably for the better," he said, patting it down, "otherwise you would have just tossed it away, without finding…this," he held his hand up, a dull gold ring resting in his palm. When Ornstein gasped, he smiled, "Good, I don't have to tell you what this is."

"H-How…?"

Garret rolled his eyes, flicking the ring into Ornstein's shaking hand, "It's not like you guys did a fantastic erasing Gwyn's firstborn's existence. For god's sake, there are empty alcoves where his statues were supposed to be. Not to mention the broken in his image littering the world—there's one just in front of the Parish, you know?" The demigod didn't react to Garret's words, merely staring at the ring held in his massive hand. Garret frowned sympathetically, "Hey…if you need a minute—"

"No, no," Ornstein said, clearing his throat, "We've kept Lord Gwyndolin waiting long enough." With that said, he pointed his spear towards the statue of Gwyn. Lightning crackled along the blade, gathering at the tip. Then, a bolt of energy shot out, impacting against the statue.

The statue, and the very wall itself, started to shimmer, becoming transparent. Within seconds, the wall had disappeared, revealing the staircase hidden behind it. "Go," Ornstein whispered.

Garret quickly made his way down the stairs.

When he hit the bottom-step, Gwyndolin's soft voice bellowed, " **Halt.** " Garret acquiesced the request, staring at the fog door across the room, " **Whatever powers you claim to have, mortal you still are. And mortal men shall not tarnish the tomb of the Great Lord Gwyn. Kneel**."

Garret scoffed, he'd almost forgotten how annoying Gwyndolin could be. "Yeah, no," he chuckled.

There was a sharp gasp, " **You dare—!"**

"Mainly because," Garret continued, undeterred by Gwyndolin's mounting rage, 'tomb' implies that your father is buried here." He walked forward shaking his head, "And I think it's safe to say that every sane person in this city knows that—you are sane, aren't you, Gwyndolin?"

" **Insolent sinner**!" the last God sneered, " **Who do you think you are? To come into the domain of the gods and swagger about with contemptable arrogance?!** "

"Well, domain of  _one_  god," Garret smirked, "and no, that illusion of Gywnevere doesn't count."

Gwyndolin didn't respond to that, not immediately. Eventually, he did ask, in a low, soft voice, " **How can you possibly know these things**?"

A sigh, "Doesn't matter."

" **I disagree**."

"Well, I disagree with your disagreement."

He could feel the god's glare through the fog door, " **Do you not know who you are speaking with?** "

"Gwyndolin, last born son of Gwyn," Garret sucked in a breath, before continuing, "Born under the Moon, as opposed to the Sun like your elder brother and sister. And, because the Moon and Sun have strict gender lines, for some inane reason, I'm sure," he said beneath his breath, "your father decided to raise you as a girl, on top of hiding you from the public eye. Because fuck you, I suppose. Also," Garret grimaced, "I have to ask…the breasts, are they an illusion, or do you pad?"

Gwyndolin spluttered, "… **Are** _ **you**_ **sane**?"

Garret shrugged, "I plan on burning myself alive so that you and yours can cling to power for a little while longer so…probably not."

" **Ah…ha…** " Gwyndolin trailed off.

Garret shook his head, "We're getting off topic. All that matters, is that I  _know_  exactly what I'm getting into by Linking the Fire. And, god help me, I'm willing to do it."

Another pause. " **I…I would thank you, for your sacrifice.** "

"Don't bother," Garret sneered, "I'm not doing it for your sake." He sighed, lips dipping into a determined frown, "I do have some requests. Nonnegotiable"

"… **Name them,** " Gwyndolin ground out.

"First off, I plan of turning Anor Londo into a home base; for myself, my friends, and the sane people left down below. I just need to know that they'll be safe."

" **Anor Londo** —"

"Is practically empty," Garret cut the god off, "but I'm pretty sure the only sane people here are you, Ornstein, Smough, and the Giant Blacksmith—I think his name is Berom?"

" **Boram** ," Gwyndolin corrected. He then sighed, " **The remaining Silver Knights have kept their wits, and the Sentinels are bound to my will, as are the demons.** " Another pause, " **Very well, so long as they grant Anor Londo the respect it deserves, your…companions shall be kept safe. And so long as they stay away from the Hall of Voices.** " He must have been able to sense Garret's confusion, for he then elaborated, " **It is the building to the left of the spiral pillar. Called such because it is where mortals within the city would voice their complaints and worries to us gods; to decide if they were truly worth intervening in**."

"Oh, so that's what it was made for," Garret smirked, "Before you stuffed Ariamis's painting in there."

Gwyndolin hummed, " **Of course you know about that**."

Garret let the silence hang between them for a moment. But then he decided to tear off the bandage, "I plan on freeing Priscilla from the painting." When there was no response, he said, "That's the name of the—"

" **I know its name!** " Gwyndolin snapped.

"Woah!" Garret held his hands up, "Is that any way to speak about your family?"

A gasp, " **H-How did you hear of those lies?!** "

"Oh, I was just inferring," Garret honestly replied, "Thought I would shock you into agreeing with me. Didn't know there were rumors, always assumed she was hidden away the moment she was…born?"

" **Manufactured!** " Gwyndolin growled, " **But…Lord Gwyn showed clemency towards Seath's little project. Until it started to show its true self**."

"With the Lifehunt," Garret sadly concluded.

" **So, you know why it cannot be allowed to leave.** "

"Well why didn't you just kill her, then?"

The lone god huffed, " **Lord Gwyn decreed that it be left alone**." He didn't need to say that he wouldn't dare go against his  _all but dead_  father's wishes. But Garret supposed that it was for the best; if Gwyndolin were capable of that level of self-confidence, things would be a lot more complicated.

"Look, Gwyndolin, I'm not going to lie to you. If she's willing, I'm setting Priscilla free."

" **You will do no such thing!** " the Dark Sun hissed.

Garret grunted, crossing his arms, "Then good luck finding another schmuck willing to burn themselves."

"… **You have a good number of compatriots…** "

Garret's lips curled back into a snarl, "Who all know the lie you've spun, and are not anywhere near as altruistic as I am." He chuckled, "But hey, if you're willing to bet that the First Flame can last…however much longer, then by all means, send us packing."

Garret could barely hear the frustrated scream from behind the fog. Then, the god said, " **If it so much as** _ **twitches**_ **in the wrong direction** —"

"It's not going to come to that," Garret said with a wave of his hand, "But if she does…turn out like you think she will…I'll kill her myself," he really, really doubted that'd be the case, but he needed to work with Gwyndolin. "So…we good?"

"… **Yes** ," Gwyndolin said after a moment.

Garret nodded, "Good. Now about that Lor—"

" **There is, however, the matter of your…infection**."

Garret scoffed, waving an arm, "Oh please, not like you all complained when humans forged weapons and armors out of Darkness when they fought against the Dragons." At Gwyndolin's sharp breath, he smirked, "Yeah, I know about that. By the way," he placed his hands on his hips, "you should really look in on Filianore. Things…are going to get a little crazy, in the Ringed City."

" **I shall…take your words into consideration** ," Gwyndolin said in a soft voice.

"That's all I ask. Now," Garret clapped his hands, "Do you have a spare Lordvessel, or do I have to meet your fake sister?"

"… **Here**." There was a snap, and a giant bronze bowl appeared in a flash of white light. Garret quickly shot his arms out, staggering under its weight.

"Geez! Warn a guy, would you?!"

" **I did**."

"Oh, now you have a sense of humor," Garret groused as he stuffed the Lordvessel into his satchel.

" **Hold on, did you just** —"

"Oh, before I forget!" Garret cut him off, "Quelaag, Quelana, and Queleia are alive."

There was a dull clatter from behind the fog, " **W-Wh** at was that?"

Garret smiled warmly, "They survived Izalith's fall. Not unscathed, mind you. Especially Quelaag and Queleia. With any luck, they'll agree to head on up here."

"I-I-I never thought," Gwyndolin said in a soft voice, "never dreamed that…" He then coughed, "I th **ank you for the information.** "

Garret waved an arm, "Don't mention it. Fair warning, it's going to take me a bit until I place the Lordvessel."

" **So long as you do so**."

Garret nodded, walking up the stairs. Halfway up, he clicked his tongue, "By the way, Nito's still sane, and with any luck, he'll be coming here as well."

" **Wait, WHAT?!** "

But Garret had already made it to the top of the stairs. Where Ornstein was waiting for him with a slackened posture. He smirked, "You catch any of that?"

"The Daughters of Chaos are truly well?" the Knight asked in a breathless tone.

Garret hummed, "Like I said, they didn't get away unharmed—though, admittedly, Quelana had it pretty easy."

"What are y—"

"Ask Havel. Or just wait."

Ornstein nodded. He then shifted his stance, "Do you really mean to free…the child?"

Garret rolled his eyes, "She's not exactly a child anymore, but yes." He placed his hands on his hips, "Not going to be a problem, is it?"

"No," the Knight hesitantly shook his head, "Lord Gwyndolin has already given his…approval, and I shall not go against that. Though I must say—"

"Save it," Garret replied, strolling past the demigod, "nothing anyone can say will change my mind."

Ornstein tightened his grip on his spear, but followed after nonetheless.

**Line Break**

Beatrice drummed her fingers against her thigh, craning her head up to stare at Smough, "So…you're an executioner?" she asked, praying that her voice didn't crack as much as she'd thought.

Thankfully, he simply answered, "Yes." He then chuckled, crossing his arms, "Not that that amounts to much, nowadays."

"Yes, now you're a Knight," Siegmeyer said from behind them with a chuckle, "Pretty big step up, no?"

"Your friend tell you that?" At Beatrice's nod, he scoffed, "Then he's grossly misinformed. I'm no knight," he bitterly spat.

"But, you work with Ornstein, don't you?" she asked.

"Your point?"

Beatrice, not knowing anything about the intricacies of knighthood, stayed silent. But Siegmeyer stepped forward, "Well, that's not very fair. Why, one might even call it outrageous. How can you work with a Knight—the Captain of the city, even—and not be a knight yourself?"

Smough grunted, "When you find out, let me know." He then shook his head, "But it's not a priority—not anymore, at least. Lot more important things to worry about."

"Fair enough," Siegmeyer replied.

Beatrice turned away from the giant—bigger than Havel, even after the Bishop seemed to regain his former bulk—demigod and Siegmeyer. Oscar was rapidly tapping his foot, staring at the spiral pillar. Elena and Kirk were glaring at one another: Solaire was…posing while facing the Sun, with Tarkus trying, and failing, to copy the Astoran (he couldn't balance on his toes): Havel, as he'd been doing ever since entering Anor Londo, was staring out at the city.

Beatrice's heart swelled with pity; even if they were in similar boats, being people out of touch with time, they weren't the same. She'd  _willingly_  imprisoned herself, and she'd left her home long before then; made peace with it. Havel never had the choice.

She walked over to the Bishop, laying a hand on his arm, "Are you okay?" she asked.

The demigod sighed, "…I can't really say." He clenched his fist, "I don't think I'll be 'okay' until I can cave in the skull of ever craven that abandoned this city."

Beatrice chuckled uneasily, before a thought occurred to her, "Well…we can always start with Seath."

Havel scoffed, "Believe me, I haven't forgotten about him. But I've been dreaming of his death for ages; believe me, I'm prepared for that clash," he solemnly swore.

"Good news, everyone!" Garret's voice called out ahead of them. Beatrice turned as the sorcerer continued, "Gwyndolin's officially welcomed us, and all our friends, to Anor Londo!"

"Whoopie," Kirk deadpanned.

"Kirk," Garret said with a smile on his face, " _all_  our friends."

That made the Knight of Thorns turn, "Wait, you mean…?" At Garret's nod, the knight scoffed, "Huh…all due respect, I'd rather keep them down in the Burg."

"Wait," Ornstein said from behind Garret, "are you speaking of…"

"Queleia, Quelana, and Quelaag?" Garret cocked a brow, "Yes."

The Knight Captain nodded, before turning to stare at Kirk, "I insist that the Daughters of Chaos be brought up to Anor Londo as soon as possible."

Kirk snorted, but it was Havel who answered, moving closer to his fellow demigod, "That all depends on Quelaag, to be honest."

"You think they would reject Lord Gwyndolin's offer?"

"Yes."

Ornstein tightened his grip on his spear, "You cannot know that for certain."

"No," Havel admitted with a shrug, "But I  _was_  certain you wouldn't let things fall to shit, and yet…" Havel spread his arms wide.

Ornstein growled, taking a step forward. For a moment, Beatrice was afraid the two would come to blows once more. Only for a loud  _BOOM_  to sound from her left. Everyone turned to see that Smough had slammed his hammer against the ground. "As fun as it would be to see you two beat the shit out of each other," the Executioner said with a chuckle, "I believe the humans have matters they need to see to."

Garret clapped his hands, "Yes, thank you, Smough. Never thought I'd string those words together," if the demigod in question heard those mumbled words, he didn't say anything. "We can start by bringing every sane person down below up here."

Oscar groaned, "I'm going to have to fly again, aren't I?"

But Garret grinned, "Oh no! Never again, unless you want to." Oscar, and the rest of them, peered questioningly at the young man. But Garret, grin still on his face, turned around, heading back towards the spiral pillar. Idly, Beatrice heard Ornstein mutter something about stairs, but followed Garret down nonetheless.

"Hmm," she turned around at Siegmeyer's voice, noting that he was gesturing to Smough and Elena, "Are you two not joining us?"

Elena didn't answer, in fact, she was already briskly walking over to the elevator back to her Bonfire. Smough, though, answered, "Someone's got to keep an eye on the Silver Knights." Siegmeyer then shrugged, bidding the demigod farewell, quickly catching up with the rest of them.

She frowned after entering the room at the bottom of the spiral pillar, gesturing to the staircase at the other end, "Is it safe to say that's where Gwyndolin lives?"

Garret nodded, sitting down at the Bonfire, "Wouldn't…wouldn't meet with him at the moment. Laid some pretty heavy stuff on him; think he needs to be alone."

Beatrice nodded; she didn't really want to see the god anyway. Seemed like a bit of a jerk.

"Now," Garret rubbed his hands together, "Let's see how this—oh!...Well that answers that question!"

"Um…what?" Solaire eloquently queried.

"Can't you see it?" he leaned closer to the fire, "Images in the Flame…"

Beatrice hummed, exchanging a look with Oscar. "Garret, I'm afraid—what are you doing?!" she exclaimed when she saw him reach out to touch the fire. But before she, or anyone could stop him, he vanished in a golden mist.

She jumped back, "What that hell?!"

"That's…not something you see every day," Kirk said in his usual flat tone, if a bit hurried.

"Garret, can you hear me?!" Siegmeyer shouted, crouching down in front of the fire.

Before Beatrice had the chance to fear that Siegmeyer would try and touch the fire as well, there was another explosion of gold mist. "Woo!" Garret said, waving the mist away as he rose to his feet, "That was a trip!"

"What just—"

"Kirk, what the hell is going on?!" Beatrice turned at the new voice, recognizing Quelaag's shouting. She saw that Krik was holding up his red orb with one hand. "Whats-his-name just popped in out of nowhere! Scared Queleia half to death!"

"You're exaggerating, sister," the Fair Lady rasped.

"Wait, did you just—"

"Yes, dear knight," the woman coughed, "Thanks to you, Sir Oscar, and Quelaag, I've regained a bit more of my strength."

"G-Glad to be of service," Kirk stammered in a soft voice.

"Yes, the Fair Lady's recovery is a tremendous boon! Not helped when degenerates come in out of nowhere and cause her undue stress! He should be drawn and quartered for that!"

"Shut up, Eingyi!" said both Quelaag and Kirk.

"Q-Quelaag?" Ornstein gasped.

The woman (well, half-woman) gasped, "Ornstein? Is that you?"

The demigod strode over to Kirk, peering down at the orb, "Yes, it is I."

"Sorry Ornstein," Quelana spoke now, "we can only see your chest. Get closer to the orb."

At that, Kirk moved the orb towards the Knight's hands. When the man growled in distaste, Kirk grunted, "I'm not going to hold this thing for the duration of your conversation. Either hold the thing or get on your knees."

Ornstein hesitated, but ultimately grabbed the orb. He brought is up to his face, letting out a shuddering gasp, "Oh…the sorcerer said you hadn't escaped unscathed, but I never thought…"

"Yes, a very strange, terrifying change," Quelaag said softly.

"But not an unwelcome, as the years passed," Queleia said with what Beatrice assumed to be a smile. "And you look…" she giggled, "I'm sorry, but even after all these years, I cannot take you seriously with that helmet on!"

Havel let out a quick bark of laughter, and the Knight shifted in place. Queleia laughed louder as well, until she was overtaken by a coughing fit.

Kirk leaned up, "Queleia?!"

The woman coughed a bit more, before speaking in her native tongue. Whatever she said, it caused the tension to ease out of Kirk's body as he responded in kind. He then looked up at Ornstein. He started speaking in the Fair Lady's tongue, before clearing his throat, "She said—"

"I can speak the language," Ornstein cut him off. Then, still holding the orb in one hand, he started to take off his helmet.

Beatrice shifted over to get a better look at his face, and she was honestly surprised. For one, he was bald, and clean-shaven; though she could see dark stubble of red hair lining his cheeks and jawline. Though, she could only tell that the stubble was red by the color of his eyebrows, which rested above a pair of steel-gray eyes. He had a sharp, prominent nose, and, briefly, Beatrice entertained the thought that he worse such a strange helm because anything else would press against it. She had to hide her mouth behind her sleeve to stifle her giggle.

The Fair Lady said something enthusiastically through the orb. The demigod grimaced, rubbing his chin and bashfully looking away. He coughed into his free hand, "This goes without saying, but you are all welcome in Anor Londo."

"Hmm, are you sure?" Quelaag asked, "Because I seem to remember that the Royal Family is not very fond of…the deformed."

"Quelaag…"

"Oh, you know I'm right, sister!"

" **The doors to Anor Londo shall never be barred to you** ," Gwyndolin's solemn voice boomed around them.

Queleia gasped, and rapidly said something through the orb. But Gwyndolin stayed silent.

It was then that Garret said, "Give him some time. I'm sure by the time you all come here, he'll be ready to meet you face-to-face."

A scoff, "Even if we wanted to—don't give me those looks you two—there's still the matter of you, Queleia, being a Firekeeper. On top of your illness."

Ornstein blinked, "Wait…a Firekeeper? And what illness?"

"Later," the three Daughters of Chaos said in unison.

"You know...there are two Bonfires here in Anor Londo without an active Firekeeper," Garret said.

"…Is what you're suggesting even possible?" Oscar asked after a moment.

"Well…making Queleia a Firekeeper was already a shot in the dark. And, despite everything, that turned out fairly well…"

Garret shrugged, "Won't know till we try. See you later," he said, waving goodbye to the Daughters of Chaos. Kirk allowed the rest of them to give their regards as well, before putting away the orb.

Garret clapped his hands, "Anyway, there's a lot of things I'd like to get done before," he turned to Havel, "well, before Seath, to be honest."

Havel grunted, "He's not going anywhere."

"First, obviously, bringing everyone from down below up here. Oscar, Kirk, I get the feeling you two are going to want to take the lead on that."

"You would be correct," the Knight of Thorns replied while Oscar nodded his head.

"Next, Havel, I'm going to have to ask you to…," he paused, frowning, "actually, never mind, I'll grab Nito myself. Got a couple other things I need to do in the Catacombs anyway."

"The Gravelord lives?" Ornstein—who'd put his helmet back on within the last few minutes—asked.

"Assuming he was 'living' to begin with," Havel deadpanned.

The golden Knight chuckled, "True, true."

Beatrice smiled softly; it was nice, seeing a glimpse of Havel's life before his exile.

"I also plan on entering a painting and freeing a dragon-girl hybrid from her frozen prison."

Beatrice blinked, "That's a lot of words you've stringed together."

"Wait…are you talking about Seath's  _abomination_?" Havel asked with a growl.

Garret's lips pulled back into a frown, "So…you're of a mind with Gwyndolin and Ornstein…" he scoffed, "I should have expected that, to be honest."

"Hold on," Tarkus asked, "What abomination?"

" _Priscilla_ ," Garret said through clenched teeth, "was imprisoned in a magical painting at a young age because—"

"It killed gods three times her size with little effort," Ornstein stated.

"It's the first in a long line of Seath's sins!" Havel spat.

"Okay!" Garret said, crossing his arms with a huff, "First off; killing a god is  _not_  an accomplishment. Practically any Undead in this room could do so given enough time and effort." Beatrice was tempted to say that, no, she would not be able to kill a god under  _any_  circumstance. But she didn't want to get in the middle of…that. "Secondly, Havel, deal with it."

The Bishop stood to his full height, "Garret," he said, "I've followed your lead on a lot of things—even when I had reservations. But freeing that  _thing_  is something I cannot abide!" he hissed.

Garret squared his shoulders, "Well that 'thing'—as you all seem so fond of calling her—was a scared, lonely young girl, who is now a woman grown, and all she's known is a frozen wasteland inhabited by madmen!" He sneered, "You're not stopping me, I'm going to meet her and, if all goes well, set her free."

Just then, Ornstein stepped forward, swinging his spear at Garret. At least, he would have, had Havel not brought up his hammer to block the blow.

Beatrice gulped, "Garret—"

"My eyes are glowing again, aren't they?"

"Red as blood," Siegmeyer solemnly stated.

"Almost forgot about your infection!" Ornstein growled.

"Ornstein, he's fine!"

The Knight growled at the Bishop, "No human is ever  _fine_  when they dabble in with darkness!"

"Best deal with it Ornsteain," Garret said with a glare, "Because you're not going to brand me and ship me off the Ringed City."

Beatrice didn't have a clue what that meant, but it must have been important, given the way Ornstein and Havel gasped—the former even dropping his weapon.

Garret's eyes lost their unholy glow, but his glare did not lessen. He turned away from the demigods with a grunt, "Rest up everyone," he said to the humans, "we've got work to do."

**A/N: Gwyndolin's dialogue was, originally, peppered with 'thous', 'shalts' and '-eth's', but that's annoying to write, so I'm not doing it. Also, out of curiosity, I checked out my original outline for the story. And boy…things changed. Like, Christ, so many changes. As always, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	33. Chapter 33

Linking Up

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

**Line Break**

Oscar stepped away from the group, walking over to a pensive Garret. He crouched down before the Bonfire, letting its warmth course through him. Eventually, he said, "Are you ready to move out?"

Garret jolted, "Wha…? Oh! Uh, yeah, just about."

Oscar grunted, "Are you sure? You did just enter a pissing match with a demigod."

"Wasn't much of a match," Garret muttered.

The Astoran chuckled, "Yeah, you shut him up pretty good."

"Eh, he'll get the last laugh," Garret sighed dejectedly, "After all, he's not the one marching on to his death."

Oscar's mouth ran dry at the reminder of the true end of their 'quest'. He dropped his shoulders, "Garret…"

"Oscar," the young man quickly held his hand up, "Don't. Believe me," shadows of the Bonfire danced across his face, accentuating the despair held within his eyes, "I…I  _wish_  there was another way. But there isn't. Not now." He turned back to the Bonfire, holding his palm out towards it, "Besides…this way, you all get to live, curse-free." He smiled thinly, "That's the best ending I can ask for."

Oscar pursed his lips but said nothing. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't dispute Garret's words. Even after what he…allowed Lautrec to do to Ana, Oscar couldn't doubt Garret's ability.

Just then, the sorcerer groaned. "Ah…shit…" But before Oscar could ask anything, he lifted his head up, "Hey, Siegmeyer! Need to talk to you."

The Catarinan walked over, after which Oscar made to stand, only for Garret to grab onto his arm, "Actually, you should stay to hear this too."

Oscar shrugged, sitting back down, "Very well, what is it?"

Siegmeyer, who sat down on the other side of Garret, asked a similar question. But Garret ignored them in favor of staring at the Bonfire. Oscar and Siegmeyer exchanged a concerned look, only for Garret to preempt any attempt at discussion by muttering, "That'll work," and, without any further warning, shooting his hands out, linking arms with the two knights.

"What in blazes?"

"Garret, what—!" Oscar gasped as he fell  _into_ the Bonfire. It was as if he'd been submerged in a boiling lake and dragged along the rocky bottom. He wanted to scream, to writhe, to die. But as quickly as it began, it ended.

Oscar gasped as he felt his body screech to a halt. He fell back, arms trembling as they tried to support his weight.

_PLIP-PLOP-PLIP_

He scanned his surroundings, confusion marring his featured, "Wha—did you transport us to the Depths?!"

"Yes," Garret—far too calmly—said, "Needed a place that was both safe, and free from prying eyes and ears."

"And why," Oscar turned to see Siegmeyer lift himself up to a sitting position, "did you do that?"

Garret seemed to withdraw in on himself, biting his lower lip, "It's a…sensitive matter. It doesn't truly concern you, Oscar, but…you need to be here."

Oscar tilted his head to the side, "Okay, why?"

"Because of Ana," Garret whispered.

Oscar took a sharp breath, while Siegmeyer asked, "How can it concern Ana, but not Oscar?" A pause, "Or…does it have to do with me?" There was an audible gulp, and the man said in a far softer voice than Oscar thought possible, "Am…am I to die?"

Oscar paled, but Garret said, "No. But it does concern…Sieglinde."

"What?" Siegmeyer's voice was but a whisper, "What do you mean? Is she here? Has she contracted to curse?!"

"No," Garret shook his head, "Sieglinde is still fully human. But she is here," he added before Siegmeyer could relax. "And…she's been captured by Seath."

After that, there was only the sound of the Bonfire, and sewer water dripping down the walls.

"…Come again?"

Garret started to pace, "Remember the golden crystal golem we freed Dusk from? She's in one of those, in the gardens of Seath's estate."

Now, Siegmeyer's quick, heavy pants joined the steady din of the Depths. "Th-Th-That BASTARD!" he roared, leaping to his feet. Oscar, unaccustomed to such a reaction from  _Siegmeyer_  of all people, fell back. "HOW DARE HE! I'LL CLEAVE HIS MISERABLE HEAD IN TWO! I'LL TEAR OFF HIS WINGS AND SHOVE THEM DOWN HIS FUCKING THROAT!" He stomped forward, stopping just in front of Garret, "TAKE ME BACK GARRET! SHOW ME THE WAY TO SEATH'S LAIR, NOW!"

Garret took it all in stride, "I…can't."

Siegmeyer then grabbed him by his shirt, slamming him against the wall, "WHY THE HELL NOT!"

"Dusk!" Garret gasped.

That made Siegmeyer still, but he didn't let Garret down. "…What about Dusk?" he eventually ground out.

"Could you let me down first?" Siegmeyer growled, but acquiesced nonetheless. "Okay…you guys know Oolacile fell to the Abyss, right?" They both nodded, after which Garret said, "And you know that Dusk doesn't know that, right?"

Oscar drew in a breath: did she not? "She…does seem oddly chipper for the Princess of a dead kingdom," he eventually said.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure she knows that Oolacile doesn't exist anymore," Garret shrugged, "I mean…she's never come out and said it, and I know no one's told her; thanks for that," he added with a sad smile, "but…she's a smart woman, you know?"

"The point, Garret," Siegmeyer said crossly.

"Right, right," he took a deep breath, "The…The second I place the Lordvessel in its receptacle, open up the way to Seath's Archives, Oolacile falls."

Neither Oscar nor Siegmeyer said anything. "You mean to say…you're the reason Oolacile is destroyed?!"

"No, but it's the moment when Dusk reaches that point in history." He groaned at their blank stares. "Ok, bear with me. In this present, the time we're currently living in, Oolacile is a fallen kingdom. Right?" He didn't wait for them to respond, "Well, when we rescued Dusk, the time period she was sent back to, our distant past, her present, Oolacile was—is, in her perspective—a thriving kingdom."

Oscar nodded, so far this was making sense. "Now, the thing about Time is that, barring very,  _very_  special circumstances, it moves forward," he whistled, making a sharp gesture in the air in front of him. "And even though Dusk is able to move back-and-forth from our time to hers, her 'present' is still moving forward."

"So…that means that…she's been slowly heading towards her kingdom's destruction."

"Correct, Siegmeyer."

"You weren't planning on telling her, were you?" Oscar asked grimly.

Garret had the grace to look ashamed, "No…not at first. But after Ana…"

"Why do you hesitate?!" Siegmeyer shouted, "Tell her! Let her know that Oolacile is about to fall! Let her sa—!" he stopped with a gasp, "…It's too late to stop it, isn't it?"

Garret sunk his hands in his face, "If there were any chance, I've already wasted it."

Oscar growled, "Okay, you've messed up royally, again," he added beneath his breath. "How do you plan on making up for it?"

"I," Garret stepped back, sliding down the wall, "I need to tell her, I  _have_  to tell her, I know that. It's just…" he voice fell to but a whisper, "It's not just Oolacile. Dusk lives in a time before the curse became a major problem. The gods reigned in peace. They didn't fuck everything up for the rest of the world yet. How," he choked, "How many lives might I have saved if I  _told_  her, right when we met, everything that was going to happen? If she'd gone to Gwyn or Nito or Quela, stopped all this shit before it even started?"

"You didn't care," Siegmeyer bluntly sneered.

Oscar gaped at Siegmeyer. He wasn't wrong; but the sheer vitriol in his voice…

"You're right, Siegmeyer," Garret laughed forlornly, "Hell, I said as much, didn't I?!" He looked downward, "How can I bear to look at her? Tell her what I know?"

Oscar was at a loss. What could he say, to help his friend? Siegmeyer, however, strode forward, coming to a stop just in front of the slumped over seer. For a moment, Oscar was worried for Garret's safety—a strange thought where Siegmeyer was concerned, but a true worry nonetheless—as the knight silently stared down.

Then, he knelt down, gently clapping his hand on Garret's shoulder, "…Dusk is a kinder soul than you give credit."

"Y-Yeah," Oscar slowly stepped forward, "She was your biggest…supporter, after," he gulped, "what happened."

"Yeah, but that didn't concern the destruction of her home. Her life."

"Nonetheless," Siegmeyer said, "You know what you have to do. You've said as much."

"Yeah," Garret sighed, "I guess I just…needed to talk it over with someone else."

"Well," Siegmeyer stood, "I can't say that I'm glad you told me these things, but I'm thankful all the same." Oscar stayed silent but nodded along with the friend's words.

Garret sighed, rising to his feet, "I don't deserve you people," he muttered. He then stared Siegmeyer in the eyes, "About Sieglinde…it's your choice, but once I place that Lordsvessel, we're locked in our path."

Siegmeyer growled, crossing his arms.

Oscar leaned over to the man, "He  _did_  say that Ana would have…have lived regardless of all else." At Siegmeyer's cocked brow, he added, "I still hate what happened, but Garret's rarely wrong."

Siegmeyer stayed silent. Eventually he asked, "There is no way to save Sieglinde before then?"

Garret shook his head, "Don't see hide or tail of her before freeing her from the golem."

"And we can't enter Seath's estate beforehand?"

"It's blocked by magical fog that can only be dissipated by placing the Lordsvessel on its receptacle. So…" he trailed off.

Another bout of silence, before Siegmeyer sighed, "Very well. Do what you must. But the  _minute_ —"

Garret cut him off by saying, "You can wait right outside the front door."

The Onion Knight nodded jerkily, "I believe we are done here. Take us back." Garret nodded, gesturing towards the fire. "Also," Siegmeyer added as they all crouched near the flames, "I was planning on assisting you with freeing this Priscilla woman from her prison. But noe…"

"It's fine," Garret said, "I wouldn't want to be near me either."

Before Oscar or Siegmeyer could say anything in reply, they were pulled back into the Flame.

**Line Break**

"You know, I've never visited Anor Londo before."

Beatrice cocked a brow, "Really? I thought Oolacile and Anor Londo were close?"

Dusk shrugged, staring out into the city, "Oh, certainly. Oolacile was founded on Royal Orders from Lord Gwyn himself. And the Royal Family would send out gifts with the birth of every heir." She smiled, "It's actually how we got our Manticores."

"Manticores?!" Solaire all but shouted.

Beatrice winced—as he was right beside her—but agreed with his shock. They were rare and dangerous creatures.

"Oh, they aren't so bad," she teased. She then sobered, "But they are difficult to rear, and breed." She clasped her hand over her stomach, looking down, "We only have a handful left."

Beatrice exchanged a glance with Solaire, who cleared his throat, "So…Garret wishes to speak with you alone, yes?"

This caused the young woman to draw further in on herself, though with a blush present on her face.

Beatrice lightly smacked his shoulder, "Really?" she hissed.

"What?"

Beatrice rolled her eyes, " _men,_ " she thought with a huff. Before she could say anything further, however, she heard Tarkus cry out, "Wah! Oh, it's just you three. Thank the gods, thought the Flame had come alive decided to kill us all."

Beatrice, and Solaire and Dusk, turned to see Garret, Oscar, and Siegmeyer dust themselves off (groggily, in the latter two's case). "Oh no, just a little mishap in teleportation."

"Will it happen again?" Ornstein, who was previously conversing with Havel and the Daughters of Chaos through Kirk's orb, growled.

Garret smiled and shrugged.

Ornstein grumbled something beneath his breath, and Havel gestured to the Orb, "Perhaps you can help us," he said.

"With what?"

"We're not leaving until you help our brother as promised," Quelaag answered through the orb.

Garret hummed, dropping his chin in his palm, "Gonna be a bit then."

"So be it," Quelaag replied.

"Wait, what do you mean?" Ornstein asked.

"The path to your brother's ring won't be open until I place the Lordsvessel and dispel the fog."

"What?" Ornstein flatly asked.

"After Quelarron was born—or made, or whatever—his sisters made him a ring in order to withstand the lava seeping out his body. Unfortunately, he lost it some time ago; somehow ended up becoming this Centipede demon thing. And the main thing preventing us from killing it and getting the ring is the yellow fog door preventing entry into Izalith."

"What?" Ornstein flatly repeated.

"WHAT?!" Quelaag screeched, making Beatrice and a few others jump. Before anyone could say anything, the Daughter of Chaos continued, "You mean to tell me that the key to easing our brother's suffering has been an elevator rides away the entire time?!"

Garret frowned, "Wait, the elevator works?"

"When I want it to," Quelaag groused.

"But, I thought…" Garret trailed off.

"Huh," Kirk scoffed, "It's almost like you should have  _told_  people what you know."

"Kirk," Garret said with a low growl, "I'm always up for a good laugh, but shut up."

Beatrice worried that the ex-Darkwraith was going to rise to Garret's words, but he merely grunted, saying nothing.

Garret then shook his head, tapping his foot, "Okay…new information." He started to pace around the Bonfire, arms crossed and face set in a frown, "Then that means…but then…wait," he stopped. Then, his lips curled into a smirk, "Okay…okay!" he clapped his hands, "This works! You and whoever else can just use the elevator and kill the demon, get your brother's ring, and move on over here!" He spread his arms wide, "Finally, something goes right!" He spun in place, laughing a touch madly. "Almost makes u—Dusk?!" Garret paused upon seeing the princess, eyes wide, "Didn't know you were here," he said, an odd quiver in his voice.

Beatrice smiled slyly at Dusk, gently nudging her with her elbow. The princess blushed and elbowed back. To Garret, she said, "Solaire thought it best to bring me here. You did" her face flushed up, "want to talk, after all."

Garret blushed as well, before paling, and blushing again. Beatrice worried that he'd faint from the rapid blood flow. "Uh," he coughed in his hands, "Maybe wait until we're not surrounded by people."

"Oh!" Dusk's blush intensified, "Of course!" she bowed, and at the same time gestured for Solaire to remove the ring. The knight did so, and Dusk vanished in a shimmer of golden light, a bright smile on her face.

Beatrice turned back to Garret, but instead of a smile—either glad or embarrassed—he had a stern frown on his face, glaring down at his feet. Oscar and Siegmeyer were giving him odd looks as well.

Then, he clapped his hands, frown morphing into an easy smile, "Okay, show of hands, who's going to go with me into a frozen wasteland via a painting and rescue the half-dragon child of Gwyn?" At Ornstein and Havel's growls, he added, with a wry smirk, "Keep glaring boys, it fuels me."

Solaire quickly stepped forward, stepping in-line with Garret. Beatrice would have done so as well, but she wanted to visit Big Hat Logan down in Firelink Shrine, take him up on his offer. What was surprising though, was Siegmeyer stepping away from Garret. The older knight loved a challenge, she'd expected him to jump at the opportunity. Instead, he walked over to Havel. The Bishop looked between Garret and Siegmeyer as well, but ultimately said nothing.

Solaire stared confusedly at Siegmeyer. "Uh, Siegmeyer—"

"I do believe," Siegmeyer said, cutting his fellow knight off, "that my services would be better served assisting Quelaag slay the demon. I do," he reached into his satchel, pulling out a burned-black great sword, hefting it on his shoulder, "have this, after all."

Solaire crossed his arms, "I…suppose."

"I'll join you," Tarkus suddenly said, stepping next to Solaire and Garret.

Garret frowned, "Uh, thanks, but I believe your efforts would be better spent fighting the demon."

Tarkus looked over his shoulder, and Beatrice followed his gaze to see that he was looking at Siegmeyer, Havel, Kirk, and Ornstein all conversing with one another. "Eh, it's like my mother always said; 'too many cooks ruin the soup'. Very much true, as I'd eventually find out. Though—in my defense—I wasn't really trying to cook, just add some extra salt to the pot, at the cook's request, mind you. But then everyone else thought that was the go-ahead to add their own personal preferences to the soup. Something about seeing the captain do something makes everyone think it's okay to do it too. Course, that's why I told old General Alma that I shouldn't be in charge of a bunch of greenhorns. "I'm too famous,' I told him. To which he said, 'which means they'll listen to you.'"

"Why don't you get ready to head out," Beatrice not-to-subtly interrupted the Black Iron Knight.

Thankfully, he just said, "Fair enough," and set about checking his equipment.

She then turned to Garret, "I plan on heading down with Oscar, meet with Big Hat Logan," she told him.

Garret nodded, "Alright. While you're there, try and keep him away from Seath's Archives. In fact, get Griggs in on it as well, he's got a solid head on his shoulders."

Beatrice was tempted to ask why, but then remembered his own warning to her back in the forest. She paled, having never really thought on that aspect of his abilities. He could see the future, he knew that Ana was going to die by Lautrec's hand; he  _had_  to know how they  _all_  died. There was no way he couldn't.

She looked down at her feet—did he see their dead, hollowed corpses whenever he looked at them? And what about Dusk? Garret wasn't an idiot, he must know how she felt about him. Legends…well, the legends about the princess of Oolacile only ever mentioned her in relation to Artorias and the Abyss; nothing on her life after the Abyss ravaged Oolacile, just that she was saved. But…Legends also said that the Chosen Undead was supposed to end the Undead Curse, nothing about burning themselves alive. So that meant that the legend of Oolacile could also by wrong. She blanched; Dusk could have easily died, and people covered it up to give the tale a happy ending. But then…why wouldn't he…

' _It just…wasn't convenient.'_

Beatrice stilled as she remembered his words from hours ago—" _was it really just a few hours ago? Felt like days…_ " She shook her head, clearing away useless thoughts. She narrowed her eyes in Garret's direction. He was conversing with Havel and Ornstein, but she didn't let that deter her as she walked forward.

Ornstein noticed her first. "What do you want, Witch?" he asked.

Beatrice spared him a glance, "I need to talk to Garret."

The man in question tilted his head, eyes narrowing suspiciously, "What about?"

"Dusk."

If he was taken aback by her bluntness, he hid it well. He led her away from Havel and Ornstein, despite the latter's protests. "What about Dusk?"

"Does she die?"

There was a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes widened considerably. "W-Wha—"

"Legend says that Artorias saved her after stemming the tide of the Abyss in Oolacile. Is that legend wrong?" she asked forcefully.

Garret gulped, closing his eyes and taking a couple deep breaths. Then, he whispered, "Artorias didn't save Dusk."

Beatrice slapped him; the impact echoing throughout the room. "You asshole!" she hissed, slapping him across the face once more. "That woman is practically in love with you," she whispered harshly, "and you didn't think—"

"I did."

Beatrice blinked, lowering her hand.

Garret sighed, crossing his arms, "We're about to come across a way to travel back to Oolacile right as it starts to fall to the Abyss."

Beatrice stepped back, mind whirling, "B-But, traveling backwards through time is…" she wanted to say 'impossible'.

"I know," Garret softly stated. "It's crazy—a completely different brand compared to what we usually deal with," he added with a bitter laugh, "but the bottom line is, I, well, we, pick up where Artorias left off."

Beatrice wavered on her feet; time-travel? To Oolacile when the Abyss ran—would run? Running? Was going to run?—rampant? It was almost too much. But she took a deep breath, returning to the matter at hand, "You need—"

"I'm telling her right after I bring everyone from Firelink here," at her soft glare, he added, looking down at his feet with a sour smile, "Figure I'd tell her without an audience."

Beatrice's heart softened a touch, but before she could say anything, Tarkus said from behind them, "Um…everything alright?"

At that, Garret lifted his head, plastering a wide smile on his face, "Oh, did you all see that? So embarrassing," he stepped forward, whirling Beatrice around and draping an arm over her shoulders, "Beatrice was just smacking away a couple mosquitoes—normal-sized, I assure you," he added in Kirk's direction, "and chastising me for putting that boar helmet on so many times. Thanks for that," he sent a wink in her direction.

All Beatrice could do was nod dumbly.

"Anyway," he moved away from her, towards Ornstein and Havel, "I think we're just about ready to leave, I just need to talk to Boram before we head out."

Ornstein looked suspiciously at Garret and Beatrice. The seer beamed at the demi-god, but Beatrice made sure to avoid his gaze. "…Why?" he eventually asked.

"Well, I'd just like to ask him how he feels about sharing his workspace with a couple other Blacksmiths."

Ornstein crossed his arms, "Boram wouldn't care. I on the other hand—"

"Awesome!" Garret barreled past the rest of Ornstein's statement, "But I'm still going to go up to meet him." That said, he turned on his heel, heading for the spiral staircase. Ornstein started to speak once more, but Garret spoke over him, "Finish your preparations guys, we leave when I come back."

Beatrice walked towards the group heading back to Firelink as Havel did his best to quell Ornstein's rage. Oscar eyed her suspiciously, "What was that really about?"

Beatrice plastered her best smile on her face, "It's like he said, Oscar, just some bugs flying around."

The knight grunted disbelievingly but let the matter drop. As did everyone else, thankfully.

**A/N: I was hoping to get this out before the New Year, but…yeah. As always, be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34:

Breaking Point

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

"Talking"

" _Thoughts"_

" **Demon/deity speech"**

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

**Line Break**

Garret gulped as the stone helmets of Gwyndolin's sentinels slowly rose with each step he took. "Moment of truth," he mumbled beneath his breath. He waved as he reached the top step, "Hey boys! We cool, or did Gwyndolin squelch on me?"

The two solid illusion shifted their heads in-synch towards Garret. Reflexively, he summoned his Pyromancy Flame, heat coursing through his body. Thankfully, the two giants turned back o staring out into the abandoned city.

"Oh, you're here."

Garret turned slightly to his left see Smough push open the ornate gate blocking off the Giant Blacksmith's—Boram was his name, he reminded himself—dwelling. He waved to the demigod, "Yo. You visiting Boram too?"

Smough shrugged, hefting his hammer and tracing along the head, "Always a good idea to fix-up your weapons and armor after people try and stab you with swords."

Garret smirked, "Fair enough." As Smough made his way to the main entrance to the palace—he should really ask what its official name was—Garret said, "By the way, and feel free to ignore me if you'd like, but I've got to ask, why the hammer?" After Smough stopped in place, Garret continued, "I mean, for an executioner, I'd think an axe would be more appropriate."

Smough chuckled, "Yeah, but I prefer to mash people into paste and add it to my food." Garret paled slightly, making the demigod chortle, "You  _see_  that too, Seer?"

Garret slowly shook his head, "I've, uh, heard the rumors, but never directly seen you…eat people." The sorcerer took a deep breath, then said, "But, for what its worth, I don't," a brief pause, "Well, no, I do care that you eat people, but I don't think it's all that important at the moment."

Smough scoffed, "Really now?"

To which Garret replied with a shrug, "Sure. I mean, yes, I think cannibalism is a terrible thing, but compared to the shit Gwyn did—you know, branding an entire race as, essentially, slaves, committing genocide against the dragons for reasons I'm not entirely sure are justified—eating the dead is fairly tame."

That threw the demigod for a loop. He laid a hand across the belly of his armor, staring down at his feet. After a long silence, he said. "You know what the pay is for an executioner—at least, what it used to be?" Before Garret could answer, he continued, "twenty-five silver coins per execution, with fifty gold come the new year." He chuckled mirthlessly, "I know it sounds like a lot, but fo someone living in the 'City of the God's', that's nothing. Especially when you've got a family to feed," he finished somberly.

"You're married?!" Garret couldn't help but blurt out.

Smough shook his head with a derisive snort, "No. But I did have a father, and a mother, and siblings." A mirthless chuckle, "My family have been executioners since…well, since Lord Gwyn got tired of doling out the punishment himself!"

"Oh," Garret gasped, "So…you eat people because you…don't get enough food?"

Smough growled, tightly gripping the shaft of his hammer, "One time. One time!" he bellowed, slamming his hammer against the gorund, his rage sending a shiver down Garret's spine, "A plague sweeps through the land, killing crops and animal alike. We'd already been starving for a week, so in an act of desperation, Father cuts up one— _one!_ —dead man, so his family doesn't waste away to nothing!" He shook his head, voice going hollow, "I know you don't like him—for legitimate reasons, I will admit—but Lord Gwyn wasn't a terrible man. Once he found out what Father had done, what he  _had_  to do, he immediately did his best to ensure that we had enough food and raised his pay to that of the average civil servant. But," a deep sigh, "the damage was already done. My family, already pariahs, were now treated with active scorn." He lifted his head, staring out towards the illusory sun, silent.

Garret gulped, wringing his hands together, "So…what about the…rumors…that you would use your hammer to grind people into paste for consumption."

Smough scoffed, "I used to have an axe—passed down from executioner father to executioner son. But you Undead have proven to be…resistant to decapitation. It took some trial-and-error, but I found that slowly and steadily crushing you folk to paste keeps you from coming back."

Garret blanched at Smough's words; yes, a demigod steadily beating your body with a hammer would be a great way to break someone's spirit and cause them to fully embrace the Curse.

"Of course," Smough continued, "I couldn't just leave the remains where they were. So, after every execution of an undead, I'd collect the pasty remains, and dispose of them later. But when people see a 'known cannibal'," he hissed, "gather paste into a barrel, well," he chuckled, spreading his arms wide, "What else are they supposed to think?!"

Garret frowned, averting his eyes to stare at the stone floor. That was a…far more intense and awkward conversation than he'd expected. He pursed his lips, "Do you…Do you still want to become a knight?"

Smough exhaled tiredly, "Like I told your friends down there, there's more important things to worry about than my own wants, at the moment."

Garret nodded. "For what it's worth," he said after a moment, "you're a…a better man than everyone that used to live in this city combined."

Smough grunted, "I've found that the words of dead men walking have very little worth…But," he added in a soft tone, "thank you." With that said, he walked past Garret, heading towards the double-doors leading inside the main building.

Garret stayed there, watching as Smough banged his hammer against the ground, patiently waiting for the doors to open up and let him enter. Garret had never really noticed, but the demigod's armor was pretty dull for what he assumed to be a gold-alloy. Everything else in Anor Londo had an almost divine glow to it—the buildings, the sentinels, Ornstein—all but Smough.

Yet another thing to talk to Gwyndolin about, it would seem.

"Ah, Garret," the young sorcerer turned to see Havel rising up to meet him, "Have you already met with Boram?"

"No, actually. I was talking with Smough; he'd just finished up his own appointment."

Havel hummed, climbing to the top step and peering into the main building. "I'll be honest, I'm still surprised that Ornstein offered to train him."

"Ornstein offered?"

Havel nodded, leading the way to Boram, "Surprising, I know. He'd never taken in so much as a page in all the years we'd worked together." He chuckled, "I still remember the look on Gwyn's face when Ornstein said he wanted to train the man."

Garret crossed his arms, "Any idea why?"

"No, he kept his reasons to himself." Havel stopped, just before Boram's tower, and drummed his fingers against his breastplate, "Not even Artorias was able to get him to reveal why. I suppose he just…saw something in Smough. Something that he wanted to cultivate."

Garret drew inwards, thinking on his conversation with Smough. Yes…there was good there. Buried beneath rage and indignation, but there all the same.

He silently followed Havel into Boram's abode, where he—draped in rusted and broken bits of armor, and old worn helmet fully covering his head—was bent over a far-too-small anvil, delicately hammering some weapon into shape on it. Garret expected Havel to growl or say something negative about the scene before them, but the Bishop was oddly silent. Before Garret could question this, however, Boram, without turning around or stopping, spoke. "Hmm?" he said, voice slow, methodical, "Back so soon?"

Havel spoke first, saying, in a soft, warm tone, "Actually, it's been quite a few years, old friend."

That got a reaction out of the giant. He froze, hammer resting atop the anvil. He slowly turned, looking over his shoulder. He leaned down, rattling the chain-link holding his clothes together. "…Havel?" he breathed.

Havel nodded, and answered in the giant's native tongue.

Boram bellowed joyously in turn—an odd, but strangely, not cacophonous mix with the haunting tone of the giant language. He swept an arm out, and Garret jumped back as he grabbed Havel, pulling him into a tight hug.

Havel, for his part, laughed joyously, continuing to speak the giant's tongue. This continued for several minutes, until Garret coughed into his hand, "Uh…should I leave?"

That made Boram focus his attention on him; the giant leaned closer, and crooned something in…giantese? Whatever it was, Garret replied, "I, uh, can't speak your language."

"Oh," Boram leaned back, putting Havel down on the ground in the process, "My bad."

"Ah, no harm done," Garret replied.

Havel brushed his shoulders, gesturing between the two. "I believe," he said, warmth still shining through his voice, "that Garret had something to ask you, Boram."

The giant hummed inquisitively, dropping his hands on his knees and leaning forward expectantly. Garret then said, "I was wondering if you would be willing to allow other blacksmiths set-up shop in Anor Londo? So long as they accept, at any rate."

"Other smith's?" the giant repeated. Then, he nodded his head, "Yes. They come, share craft! Help friends!" He punctuated his words by gesturing to both Havel and Garret.

"Great!" Garret smiled, turning around to look out into the city, "So, what? You have an abandoned space they can hang out in, or—"

"They work here!" Boram happily shouted, slapping the ground and shaking some of the loose weapons and armor scattered on the floor.

Garret frowned, turning back to Boram. "Um…" he swept his gaze across the room, "a bit small, isn't it? I mean, there's three other people—well, two people and one skeleton—that might accept, after all."

But Boram merely laughed. "Watch," he said, reaching up and to the left. He extended his pointer finger, and delicately tapped it against several stones.

There was a low rumble, and the tower began to shake. Garret felt his legs, pull apart, and looked down, yelping at the gap forming at his feet. He rushed over to Boram and Havel, turning back to stare in awe as the hole expanded to reveal a stone staircase leading further into the tower.

After the hole stopped growing, Garret knelt down, staring down the revealed addition. He gasped at the sight of dozens, if not hundreds, of chests filled with all titanite of all kinds—shards, chunks, slabs, red, twinkling—creating a veritable rainbow of stone. Garret loosed a low whistle, "Gonna be honest, did  _not_  expect anything like this!"

Havel chuckled, "Few ever do."

**Line Break**

Solaire hated feeling worried. It was a terrible thing; the paranoia that something might go wrong. But it was something he'd been forced to become familiar with recently.

He wasn't foolish enough to believe that things could easily go back to how they were before ringing the second bell. Not after all they'd learned about Garret. But, the tension that had been radiating off of Oscar did lessen after they reunited with Garret at Sen's fortress.

And then that mess with the Bonfire happened.

Solaire didn't believe for one second that Garret had an 'accident'—neither did Ornstein, given his grumblings. But what was disconcerting was the fact that Garret specifically sought out Oscar and Siegmeyer; whatever it was, he didn't want it to spread out to the rest of the group.

That actually hurt a bit; didn't he assist them in dealing with Petrus?

But then, maybe its best he didn't know. Siegmeyer acted like his usual self, jesting and laughing at every slightly amusing word and action. Yet, throughout it all, he kept his spine rigid, and he held his blade in his hands. And Oscar, he was just silently sitting at the Bonfire, not even bothering to talk with Beatrice.

Which was another…oddity. He'd briefly seen her face pale, before setting it in stone and marching over to Garret. And then she slapped him. Multiple times. No one believed Garret's lie about insects, but she was tight-lipped about what was actually spoken between them.

But…Havel was speaking with Garret before Beatrice took him away. Perhaps he knew?

Solaire lifted his head up, only to pause and remember that Havel had left a bit ago to meet with his giant friend, the blacksmith. And as soon as he came back, Garret would want to head out. And Solaire knew that he wouldn't be able to get anything out of Garret; the only reason they'd even found out about Ana was the man's own carelessness. He doubted such a thing would happen again.

He clicked his tongue, a defeated sigh passing through his lips. It was then that he caught sight of Ornstein. The knight was leaning against a pillar, inspecting his weapon. He'd been there when Beatrice pulled Garret aside. He had to know something.

Solaire was hesitant to approach the man. He did try to kill Garret at least twice. But…he was all he had. Thus, Solaire rose to his feet, slowly but surely walking to the Captain of Gwyn's knights—well, the one knight left.

He came to a stop just before the knight, coughing into his hand, "Excuse me, Sir Ornstein, but I have a question."

Ornstein's masked face tilted downward, its snarling visage sending a soft tremor down Solaire's spine. Eventually, the knight said, "What, human?"

"I, um, I just wanted to ask a quick question. If you don't mind, of course."

Ornstein stared down at Solaire, and the human knight did his best not to fidget under the demigod's attention. "Very well," Ornstein eventually said, "so long as you answer a question of my own."

Solaire quickly nodded his head, "Of course." He paused, "So…wh—"

"Me first."

"Okay then."

"Why do you where that sigil?" he asked, pointing to the sun on Solaire's chest.

Solaire blinked, looking down, "This?" He was silent for a moment, before chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just, well, you're the first person in a longtime to ask  _why_  I branded myself as such."

"None of your…companions have?"

A shrug, "I suspect Garret knows why—what with his ability to see into the future and past. And no one else brought it up because…well, they all know that I am a Warrior of Sunlight and—"

"What was that?" Ornstein suddenly interrupted

"Hmm?"

Ornstein leaned down quickly, making Solaire stumble back a few steps, "What did you call yourself?!"

"A Warrior of Sunlight," Solaire hesitantly repeated.

The demigod took a sharp breath, "Why do you call yourself as such?" He slammed the butt of his spear against the ground, leaning down to stare him in the eyes, "Where did you hear of that title?"

"Solaire!" Siegmeyer suddenly shouted, "Are you alright?"

The Astoran rapidly waved his hand, "I'm fine, I'm fine. At least I hope so," he added beneath his breath.

That seemed to jolt Ornstein, who quickly leaned back, gripping his spear in both hands, "My apologies. It's just…it's been a long time since I've heard the specific phrase."

Solaire coughed into his hands, "Right. Anyway," he paused for a moment, "Uh, I first came upon this symbol when I was a lad—recently knighted, actually. I was with a small platoon, patrolling the southern border of Astora. It was fairly routine for the first week, but on our way back to our main encampment, we were attacked by a band of Hollows." Solaire then frowned, reaching under his helmet to rub his chin, "How do they coordinate so well anyway? They are, after all, mindless husks—you'd think they'd just as soon attack one another instead of banding together and—"

"The point, human," Ornstein said with a low growl.

"Right, right. Sorry. Uh, where was I…Ah yes! We were attacked, and a great many of us fell. Then, when it was down to me and four others, a man burst in through the forest, hurling lightning at the Undead. This gave us the chance to fight back and turn the tide against our foes."

"This man…did he have the same sigil your wear upon your armor?"

Solaire nodded, "Yes. He never gave us his name, merely called himself a 'Warrior of Sunlight and Jolly Co-Operation'." Solaire laughed as memories came rushing back, "A bit odd, but a fine man nonetheless. He actually introduced me to Soapstones as well, which were a great boon for the Astoran forces when the Curse really started to spread."

"So, you gave yourself the same brand and moniker in honor of this man?"

But Solaire shook his head, "Not at first. It was only after I'd contracted the curse, some years after that." He reached into his satchel, pulling out a golden coin emblazoned with the symbol Ornstein was obsessed with. As he gave the coin to Ornstein, he said, "Before we parted ways, the man gave me some of these, and told me 'If ever you should feel lost, or helpless, merely gaze upon the Sun, and know that it's light shall guide you to your true path.'" A soft chuckle, "Just the sort of thing a burgeoning Undead needs, really."

Ornstein stared silently at the coin after he finished his tale. He shifted in place occasionally, but still said nothing.

"Is there…anything special—to you—behind the symbol?" Solaire asked.

"It's…it's nothing," Ornstein's voice was softer than Solaire thought possible for a man that size, "just a lot of…things I'd thought long buried have very abruptly come to life." He snorted derisively, "That seer of yours doesn't do things by half."

Solaire laughed lightly, "No, he does not."

"Princess Dusk," Ornstein suddenly said. At Solaire's questioning grunt, he added, "That is who your friends were talking about." Another snort, "Speaking of things thought buried," he straightened, and once more his helm's blank eyes bore down on Solaire, " _Why_  did the Princess of the former kingdom of Oolacile appear and vanish in a shower of golden light?"

Solaire shrugged, "Magic." At Ornstein's growl, he quickly added, "She was trapped in this crystal creature created by Seath. I don't know the specifics, but her ring allows her to, briefly, travel through time to be with us."

Ornstein tightened his grip on his spear, "Wait, she's the  _actual_  Princess Dusk? Not some sort of elaborate illusion?"

"Oh yes, she's quite real." He blanched, "Er, don't mention the whole 'Abyss overrunning Oolacile' thing. It's something of an unspoken rule among us; don't want to freak her out."

Ornstein gasped, "You mean she's from  _before_  Artorias halted the Abyss?"

"Yes."

"And you  _haven't_  told her what's about to happen?"

A shrug, "There's little point; after all things…work out…in the…end." Solaire trailed off, a cold chill running down his spine.

"Hmm, perhaps you are right," Ornstein sadly acknowledged, ignorant of Solaire's change in mood. "Besides, meddling with time is a dangerous affair; even Seath abandoned all attempts to investigate it after a while."

' _It just wasn't convenient_ '. Those were Garret's words. Solaire may not have been as harsh as Oscar, but he did agree that it was a terrible excuse. Yet…Garret's hesitation was understandable; he was burdened with so  _much_  knowledge. Too much, really.

He gasped raggedly; but the rest of them didn't have that same depth of information, that fear holding them back. Why didn't they say anything? Havel, at least, was stuck in a tower for ages, he couldn't have known. But Oscar, Siegmeyer, Beatrice, himself?

...Indifference. Nothing held them back but their own indifference.

"Hm? Are you alright, human?"

Solaire blinked, jerking back slightly, "Wha—yes, yes! Just…remembering," he said softly.

"A dangerous pastime," Ornstein commiserated. He perked his head up, "Ah, looks like you'll be leaving soon."

Solaire whipped his head around, throat tightening as Garret and Havel entered the room, chatting about something he couldn't hear.

"Thank you." Solaire turned sharply, to which Ornstein said, "for your tale."

Solaire gulped, bowing slightly, roughly, "And thank you for you…information. Ah, you can keep the coin," he said as Ornstein held it out, "I've got more." Then, without waiting for a reply, he hurried over to his friends.

"…don't bother cutting off its limbs, they'll just grow back—ah! Solaire, there you are." The seer gestured to the group, "I was just telling Havel, Siegmeyer, and Kirk how to best kill the Centipede demon in Izalith. Also," he snapped his fingers, "I'm grabbing Nito before we enter the painting; that way I never ever have to enter the Catacombs again. Ever." He repeated with a wide, manic smile.

"Er, right."

Garret frowned, leaning forward to lay a hand on the knight's shoulder, "Hey, you alright?"

Solaire gently shrugged off the hand, "I'm fine. Just…I…thank you Garret, for all you've done thus far. I kn—" he cleared his throat, rubbing it to ease away a bit of the constriction, "I know it could not have been easy."

Garret blinked, a small blush coloring his features. He bashfully turned his head away, scratching his neck, "Uh, thanks, Solaire." He turned back to the group, "Where was I?"

"Don't cut off its limbs," Oscar supplied. Garret thanked the man and continued the small meeting.

Solaire only half payed attention to the conversation. Garret ended it by gathering those going to Izalith beside him.

"I don't care what your reason is," Kirk's loud, irate voice pulled Solaire's attention back to them, "I am  _not_  holding anyone's hand!"

"Kirk," Garret sighed, pinching his nose, "it's the only part of your armor not covered in spikes. Unless you're willing to tak—"

"Not on your life!"

Garret threw his arms up, "Fine! Just, put your hand on top of Havel's helmet."

"Come again?"

"…Fine," Kirk eventually said.

As the Knight of Thorns and Bishop entered a rapid argument, Garret said to the rest, "Hold on while I get ready to move," and hunched over the Bonfire, staring deep into the flames.

Just then, a gloved hand clapped Solaire's shoulder, "Hey friend," came Tarkus's deceptively soft voice, "Guess we need to wait a bit for our time to shine."

Solaire grunted, "Suppose so."

"Hey, you sure you're alright?" Solaire hummed but said nothing. "Cause let me say, bottling negative feelings up only leads to disaster. It's like when my Mother and Uncle were young. A strange child he was, she'd tell me, always so quiet and unresponsive. Her mother—a woman I never had the fortune to meet but am told would have gotten along swimmingly with—was worried that he was slow in the head. Course, he and my mother were close and she…"

Solaire slowly tuned the famous knight out, stewing in his own thoughts.

**Line Break**

Dusk clicked her tongue, "Oh, c'mon! Of all the times for you to break!"

"Patience, Princess," came the calm, matronly voice of Elizabeth, "What have I told you? Your crown—"

"Is not some sturdy human metal you can freely bend and not break," Dusk snarked. She then sighed, dropping her crown in her lap, "I'm sorry Elizabeth," she laid a gentle hand on the mushroom woman's body, "I didn't mean to be short with you." She picked the crown back up, carefully twisting an end, "I just—I need this to be perfect!"

A sigh, "Princess…" her caretaker began.

"Unless you're going to give me some sap to fix my crown I don't want to hear it."

"Princess."

The princess ignored her in favor of other, more pleasing thoughts.

"Princess."

Like Garret. Oh yes, he was the source of very pleasant thoughts.

"Princess!"

And anxious thoughts, admittedly. But that anxiety was more akin to butterflies fluttering about in her stomach; it wasn't a great feeling, but neither was it a terrible one.

"Dusk!"

"What?!" the princess shouted, glaring at her old caretaker.

Elizabeth narrowed her milky, pale, approximations of eyes in turn. She then sighed, wriggling in place; a sign of discomfort, Dusk knew. Her anger quickly faded, and the princess hummed, gently rubbing circles on Elizabeth's body.

"My dear," the living mushroom said, "I'm…worried about you." Dusk pulled away, after which Elizabeth continued, "You're spending so much time in the future—my, but that's still strange to say," Dusk smiled weakly, "that I fear you're forgetting about the present."

Dusk straightened, "It's not interfered in my life."

"You haven't hosted a public event—nor even been seen in public—in weeks. Lucky for you you've a well-established history of long absences," she added beneath her breath.

Dusk scoffed, "People are too afraid to leave their homes after those plant-men started to appear—to say nothing of the rumors of a dragon roaming about our borders. The people are scared, and I'm not about to force them outside the comfort of their homes to ask how they are doing."

"Fair enough," Elizabeth stated evenly. "But pining after a man who—by his own admission—is set on immolating himself is nothing short of folly!"

"I'm not—" Dusk began, only for the words to die in her throat. Elizabeth had practically raised her since birth, there was no point to denying the truth to her. Instead, she said, "Haven't you always told me to follow my heart?"

"I've also told you that the heart's desires must be tempered by the mind's discipline!" Elizabeth had started to shout, ending her declaration with heavy pants. "Dusk…you need to stop this. This boy—"

"Garret," Dusk automatically supplied.

"Garret will not be worth the pain he will cause you."

Dusk scowled, "You don't even know him!"

"I know that he was perfectly willing to let his friend's only sibling suffer at the hands of a madman because he didn't care otherwise."

Dusk clenched her fists, only pausing when her crown crackled under her grip. "He made a mistake," Dusk conceded, "but he's started to make amends. Besides, he's under so much pressure!" She drew her knees close to her chest, "Can you imagine what it must be like, to know all that has been, is, and will be?"

"No," Elizabeth said, "and I will admit that his choice to knowingly subject himself to the First Flame's fury for the benefit of the world is admirable. But that doesn't change the fact that his is a doom-driven path!"

Dusk scoffed, glaring at the ground. She then felt a pit in her stomach form, and smiled as golden orbs of light circled her body. She dropped to her feet, dusting off her dress and putting on her crown, "It appears I am needed." She bowed to Elizbeth, "So long, Elizabeth."

"Dusk!" But the golden lights had grown, completely enveloping Dusk, sending her hurtling forward through time and space.

As always, her body seized slightly as the transportation spell ceased. She shook her head slightly, blinking to cast away the spots in her vision.

Then, she saw him. Her lips curled into a wide smile, "Hello Garret."

"H-Hey Dusk," Garret slightly stuttered, rubbing his left elbow, looking down at his feet. Dusk looked around, noting that they were in Firelink shrine. Alone.

She did her best to keep her smile from widening further, slowly walking towards him. She sat next to him, but not right against him, and asked, "Where's everyone else?"

"Up in Anor Londo, or down in Izalith with Quelaag and her sister," he replied, gazing up at the sky, "Thankfully, everyone—from Patches to Ana—was amenable to the move. Only reason I'm still here is because there's a few people I need to meet down here. Plus…" he trailed off, and Dusk found herself blushing.

She gently coughed into her hands, scooching closer to Garret. "So, everyone is alright?"

"Oh, sure." Garret leaned back, still not looking her in the eyes, "Patches looked about ready to pee himself at the sight of Ornstein, though. And Rhea, Vince, and Nico were quick to drop to their knees in front of Gwyn and Gywnevere's statues in the throne room and start praying." He chuckled, "Well, Rhea was, I think Vince and Nico are a little disillusioned with the gods." He blanched, "Gonna need to keep an eye on those two, don't want them going mad on us."

Dusk shrugged, shifting closer once more, "They seem devoted enough to Lady Rhea; going mad would cause her a great deal of pain, and I'm certain neither of them would allow that to happen."

"I guess so."

Dusk gulped and moved until their shoulders were barely touching. "I—"

But this caused Garret to jerk back, "Wha—when'd you get so close?"

Dusk blushed, giggling, "I thought you'd noticed."

Garret gulped rubbing his neck, "Well…I've got a lot on my mind." His eyes briefly locked onto to hers, before he looked. Dusk's heart fluttered, and she leaned forward to grab his hands on her own. At least, that was the plan, only for him to rise to his feet and turn his back towards her.

Dusk blinked, "Garret," she said, standing as well, "what's wrong?"

He sighed, but didn't turn around, "I…there's something I have to— _need_  to—tell you, before I lose my nerve." Dusk gasped, clasping her hands over her heart. "I…god," he groaned, "I should have told you this a long time ago!"

Dusk sniffed, wiping a few stray tears from her eyes. "Garret," she said with a smile, "you can tell me." She knew she felt the same.

He was trembling now, "Dusk…"

" _Say it,"_  she thought fervently.

"You….you are…."

" _Elizabeth is wrong! Well, maybe not entirely,"_  she bitterly admitted, " _but I know we'll be fine!_ "

He took a deep breath, "…Oolacile is about to be overrun by the Abyss."

"Garret, I—" she froze, her declaration dying on her lips. Her heart seized, and she could feel the blood rushing away from her face, "W-W-W-What was that?"

Still with his back to her, he said, "Your people…found something," his voice was dry, dead, "a corpse, buried beneath Oolacile. At a serpent's urging, they dug it up and…woke it up. They then experimented on it. Tortured it."

Dusk gulped, "N-No, what are you saying, Garret?!"

"They pushed it and pushed it—"

"G-Garret, stop."

"—until, finally, it snapped. Became something else—"

"Please, stop!"

"—a monster. Manus, the Father of the Abyss."

"I said stop!" She stomped forward, harshly pulling at his shoulder to turn him around. His face—stony, eyes dull and lifeless—were no doubt a sharp contrast to her own sorrow-filled features. "W-What are you saying?" she cried, "That you've known that Oolacile—my kingdom, my  _people_ —were going to be attacked by a monster of our own making?"

He smirked mirthlessly, "I know more details than most, but yes, I've always known."

Dusk took a step back, his words all but slapping her in the face, "W-W-Why didn't you—" the words died in her throat.

A dry, hollow chuckle, "I think you know the answer to that."

Dusk held back a sob, turning away from Garret. She heard him step closer, but she swiftly swiped her hand at him, "Don't!" she screamed. She drew her hands upon her shoulders, breathing haltingly, not quite sobbing, but still shedding tears. "What else?" she eventually asked, "What else is going to happen?"

"…"

"Garret!"

"…Manus captures you."

She loosed a harsh, bitter laugh, "It what?"

"Crazy, right?" He sighed, "Best I can figure, you remind him of—"

"Do you think I care what it thinks?!"

"No…" he said, "I suppose you wouldn't."

Dusk gasped raggedly, "Would you have told me this had you not let slip your folly with Ana?"

"…No," he admitted sadly.

Dusk's heart seized at his confession. Firelink Shrine seemed to grow silent; the wind stopped blowing, the fire stopped crackling, even that giant bird stopped squawking. Then, she let out a small, desperate laugh. It rose in pitch and intensity, until she was all but doubled over. Then, she stopped. "Send me back," she eventually whispered.

"Dusk, there's m—"

"Send me back!" she screamed.

Garret said nothing, but she did feel a pull in her gut, and golden orbs of light quickly assaulted her vision. Her resolve crumbling just as fast.

"Ah," she heard Elizabeth's voice through the light, "that was fast. Barely even a—Dusk?" her voice gained a worried, heartfelt tinge, "what's wrong?"

Dusk, within the safety of her childhood abode, finally broke down. She sobbed, rough, ugly sounds, and stumbled forward, falling to her knees and curling against Elizabeth's body.

"Shh, shh," her caretaker whispered soothingly, "it's okay, it's okay. Shed your tears, Princess." And she did.

**LINE BREAK**

Garret stared at the ring in his hands, heart heavy and self-loathing at an all-time high. He sniffed, angrily scrubbing away the tears threatening to spill over. "Well," he scoffed, "least she didn't hit me."

_CAW CAW_

Garret lifted his head up, quirking a brow and holding his arm out parallel to the ground. Scant seconds later, Benito landed on his arm. The bird shuffled slightly, loosing another cry.

"And just where have you been?" Garret half-heartedly teased. The bird eyed him critically, after which he sighed, "C'mon," he started walking to the cemetery, "let's go meet your…master? Father?" Benito cawed. "Father it is."

"Hrnng…Mnng," someone snored.

Garret blinked, frowning slightly, "Oh right, Frampt."

He stopped a few feet in front of the toothy, Primordial Serpent. Frampt gurgled in his sleep, prompting Garret to step back, waving his free hand in front of his face, "Ugh, talk about morning breath."

Benito flew down from Garret's arm, landing on one of Frampt's…flesh staches'? Questions for later. The bird rapidly pecked the mass of flesh, making it quiver and eliciting a soft gasp from Frampt. But though the serpent stirred, he did not wake. Benito repeated the action and achieved the same results. Eventually, the bird looked up at Garret, squawking softly.

Garret waved at him, "Leave him; we're burning daylight, and there's nothing he can say or do for us anyway."

Benito squawked softly, but nonetheless flew over and landed on Garret's shoulder as he walked away.

**A/N: So…that just happened. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35:

Grave Robbing

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

“Talking”

“ _Thoughts”_

**“Powerful Beings”**

“Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak”

**Line Break**

 

Garret groaned as he sat up from the stone coffin, “How did Havel fit in this thing?” he muttered, rubbing his back. Benito hopped out from his place at Garret’s feet, cawing lightly and flying out into the cavern.

 

Garret pulled himself out the coffin, wondering just how it worked. He went from a literal hole-in-the-wall to a cave a few miles underground. He decided that would be one of the questions he’d have to ask Nito. Not the first question, but definitely top fifty.

 

He began the short walk to Nito’s coffin, reaching into his satchel and palming a homeward bone. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to use it—Havel made the Gravelord sound agreeable—but it couldn’t hurt to be careful. Briefly, Garret considered actually fighting the Lord of the Dead, should the need arise. He then discarded such thoughts with a scoff; without any Divine weapons, he’d be fighting a grossly uphill battle. No, best to pray for peace.

 

He came to a stop at Nito’s open casket. He suppressed a shiver, the Lord was much more intimidating in the flesh. His bones looked like they were mashed and melded together. Not even a good job of it either, like a child that managed to shove a square block in a round hole, all cracked and discolored. A strong breeze could break it all apart. What bones weren’t mushed together were connected by some sort of black…mush, that shrunk and expanded as if it were flesh.

 

_CRAW_

 

Garret lifted his gaze to Benito, who was perched atop the coffin. Then, the tiny bird hopped down, landing on Nito’s main skull. In a deft move, the crow jabbed its beak downward, a hollow knock echoing out into the cavern. After the sound dissipated, Benito did it again, this time repeating the action a second before it petered off. Again, and again, Benito hit the skull, drumming faster and louder.

 

When the noise became almost too much to bear, Garret shouted, “Hey! I like theatrics as much as the next guy, but I’ve got a busy schedule ahead of me, can we get to the point!”

 

Benito stopped mid-peck.

 

Then, a hiss of air. “ **Fair enough** ,” rasped the Gravelord.

 

Nito shot his one good arm out, grasping the edge of his coffin. He pulled himself forward, allowing his Grave Sword—and even worse looking fusion of bones—to come free, planting it in the ground. Then came his feet, if you could even call them that. Garret wasn’t sure what they were made of, but they certainly weren’t made up of regular foot bones.

 

When Nito fully exited his resting place, he arched his body back, jaw clacking open as he sighed, “ **Garret,** ” the Gravelord said, “ **we finally meet**.”

 

Garret blinked, staring up at mass of bones, “Yes…Under much better circumstances that I could have ever dreamed.”

 

A harsh bark of laughter, “ **Oh?** ” Nito leaned down, bones rattling as Garret found himself staring into an endless chasm of darkness, “ **And tell me, Seer, what have you dreamed?** ”

 

Garret gulped, “O-Oh, nothing really.”

 

“ **Please,** ” several of Nito’s smaller skulls rattled, cracking apart to form misshapen smiles, “ **I insist**.”

 

Garret pursed his lips, “Well, uh, I, erm, saw…me…killing…you. Here. In this cave.”

 

“… **What?** ”

 

Garret chuckled nervously, “Don’t worry, you got more than your fair share of licks in!”

 

The Gravelord hissed. “ **What do you mean you _kill_ me**?”

 

“Eh…isn’t it obvious?”

 

“ ** _Why_** ,” Nito ground out, **“would you kill me?”**

 

“Wait, you’re serious?” At Nito’s low growl, Garret held his arm’s up defensively, “It’s all part of Gwnydolin’s plot to keep the Fire going. You know, kill off powerful beings—you, the Four Kings down in New Londo, Seath, and what’s left of Quela—and feed them to the Lordsvessel to open the way to the First Flame. I,” Garret scrunched his nose, “I thought you knew this.”

 

Nito was silent for a moment. Then, he suddenly leaned back, “ **HeHeHe! Ha! HAHAHAHAHA!** ” he boomed.

 

Bits of rock fell from the ceiling, and Garret gazed worryingly at the stalactites dotting it as the Gravelord showed no sign of stopping.

 

“ **So** ,” Nito said as he laughter eventually died off, “ ** _that’s_ what his plan is! He always was cleverer than anyone gave him credit**.”

 

Garret frowned, “He’s got a very good grasp on Sorceries; that, at least, implies a fair bit of intelligence.”

 

A soft scoff, “ **Gwyndolin? Please, that child could barely dress himself without looking to another for approval. No, Seer, I speak of Gwyn**.”

 

Garret crossed his arms, “Wait, you think _Gwyn_ planned all this? That he set this _whole_ thing up just before he started burning himself alive?”

 

Nito stared down at Garret, “ **Oh, I guarantee it**.” He traced a bony finger along the edge of his blade, “ **Yes…I can see it now.** ” His voice softened a touch, **“Foolish Gwyn, always allowing yourself to be ruled by fears and insecurities.”**

 

“Come again?” Garret then sucked in a breath, “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. But…but that,” he shook his head, “I mean, the Four Kings, Quela—currenlty the Bed of Chaos—and Seath are definitely problems, but why would Gwyn be afraid of you?”

 

Nito sighed, “ **Why, simply because I’m the last of the last Bearer of a Great Soul that has kept their wits**.”

 

“What about the Furtive Pygmy?”

 

“ **Oh!** ” Nito pulled back, surprised, **“I’d thought they were beyond even your sight; they put great effort into keeping their existence a secret**.”

 

“Yeah, no kidding.”

 

“ **Regardless, they died a long time ago**.”

 

“Died? Like, of old age?”

 

“ **Well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say they killed themselves**.”

 

Garret blinked, “Why would they do that?”

 

Nito flippantly waved his hand, “ **Who knows? Well, Gwyn might have—they were close, oddly enough. As well as the Primordial Serpents; bottom-feeders, always hanging on their every word**.”

 

The Undead shook his head, “We’re getting off topic.” He held his hands out in front of him, “What you’re trying to tell me, is that Gwyn somehow got it into his head that you’d, what? Take over the world after he sacrificed himself?”

 

A harsh scoff, “ **More or less**.”

 

“But…that’s—”

 

“ **Insane? Paranoid?”** the Gravelord chortled, “ **Apt descriptors for the former Lord of Light**.”

 

Garret sighed, rubbing his temples, “Okay, this…changes things. He looked up at the last Lord, “I suppose this means I can’t use your Soul to open the way to the First Flame.”

 

“ **Oh, no. By all means, it’s yours**.”

 

Garret slumped his shoulders, “Well now I’m just befuddled.”

 

“ **Unlike my contemporaries, I’ve never feared the end.** ” A chuckle, “ **What kind of Lord of Death would I be if I tried to subvert my own?** ” His laughter tapered off, ending with a sad sigh, “ **Of course, this is not an ideal end. I’d always imagined—hoped, really—that my death would herald a new age, not the continuation of a meaningless cycle.”**

 

Garret stared sadly at the stone floor, “You know about the Cycle?”

 

Nito sneered, “ **Even Flann could see that Gwyn’s sacrifice—and yours—was a temporary solution.** ”

 

“Flann?” Garret repeated, “The Fire god?”

 

“ **The God of Flame, yes.** ”

 

Garret scoffed, “Load of good he was.”

 

A scoff, “ **The man is an imbecile, through and through. Did you know that he somehow weaseled his way into marrying Gywnevere?** ”

 

“Yeah,” Garret folded his arms, scowling, “after she and everyone else jumped ship and abandoned Anor Londo. And Gwyndolin.”

The Gravelord chuckled darkly, “ **You want to know something funny? The new land they settled in? It was among the first to be afflicted with the new Curse!** ” Garret guffawed, “ **Yes,** ” Nito laughed along with the human, “ **A delicious irony!** ” His laughter tapered off, “ **Of course, they all fled once more, dooming the land and its citizens**.”

 

Garret sighed, “Figures. Gywnevere, at least, has—or, will have—a habit of abandoning her home at the first sign of trouble.”

**“Ah** ,” Nito breathed, “ **She does, does she? It makes sense, I suppose.** **Of all Gwyn’s children, she was always the most…fickle**.” At Garret’s inquisitive stare, he said, “ **That is to say, she lacked conviction. For all his faults,** ” a hint of fondness creeped into Nito’s voice, “ **Gwyn stood by what he believed in, what he built. Something the rest of his children inherited, at least.** ”

 

The Seer grunted, “His first-born especially. What’s his name, by the way?”

 

Nito paused, “ **What?** ”

 

“Gwyn’s first-born. What’s his name?”

 

“ **D—Do you really not know**?”

 

“Would I be asking otherwise?”

 

“ **I suppose not,”** Nito sighed, **“Just seems odd. You know so much already, and yet a simple name eludes you**.”

 

Garret rolled his eyes, “How do you think I feel?”

 

Nito’s skulls cracked into a light grin, then quickly repaired themselves. “ **Gwyn**.” He stated.

 

Garret blinked, “Hm?”

 

“ **Gwyn’s first-born. His name is Gwyn. Gwyn the Second, technically.** ”

 

“Gwyn named his firstborn son…Gwyn?” Garret stated slowly. At Nito’s nod, Garret grinned, “At least he was consistent. As were Quela and yourself—c’mon man, Fenito, Milfanito, Benito,” he added when Nito tilted his main head in confusion.

 

Nito laughed, “ **Yes. I suppose we all were…creatively sterile.** ”

 

There was a long silence, after that. Garret moved to speak, only for Nito to first say, “ **You mentioned that Gywnevere _will_ have gained a habit of running at the first sign of trouble in a kingdom. Does that mean that the Curse shall return?** ”

 

Garret nodded sadly, “Yeah. It…pops back up every few millennia.”

“ **I see…Tell me this, Seer** ,” Nito leaned down closer, voice softening, “ **Do you see an end to this…Cycle?** ”

 

The young Undead crossed his arms, sadly shaking his head, “Not for a long…long time.”

 

“ **How long?** ”

 

Garret considered the question, then answered truthfully, “Long enough that nations basically start rotating who produces the next unlucky victim.” He chuckled ruefully, “Long enough that everyone gets sick of the endless cycle of ‘Light’ and ‘Dark’.” A scoff, “Which really should be called the endless cycle ‘Light’ and ‘Less Light’.” Nito grunted quizzically, and Garret elaborated, “The world, despite popular belief, never falls to Darkness. Granted, nations which don’t Link the Flame in a timely manner partially fall, but the Fire always gets re-Linked in the end, keeping the rest of the world ‘safe’.”

 

“ **Really now?** ” Nito snorted derisively, “ **So Gwyn lit himself ablaze for nothing?** ”

 

“Well, to be honest he ran himself into a corner after branding Humanity with the Darksign.”

 

“ **…The Darksign is the cause of all this**?” The Lord of Death and Decay asked breathlessly.

 

Garret froze, a pit forming in his stomach. “Oh, no,” he whispered, “No, no, no.” He eyed the Gravelord suspiciously, fearfully, “…You all were implicit in that little scheme, weren’t you?”

 

Nito was silent for a long moment. Still. Then, he said, “ **It needed to be done**.”

 

Garret threw his head back, shouting furiously, “Dammit! So, you were all assholes!”

 

At that, Nito slammed his blade against his coffin. His bones rattled incessantly, and the ground started to shake and shift. “ **You dare judge us so?!** ” he hissed, “ **You, with your knowledge?!** ” He leaned down, inky black mist pouring out his main skull, “ **Your ancestors were _feral_! Their mastery of the Dark Soul was grand, far greater than their Pygmy forefathers, I will admit. But they lost control of themselves more often than not, killing friend and foe alike!** **We could not allow them to spread unchecked, destroying an already broken world!** ”

 

The seer scoffed, “World seemed to be doing fine until you all came along and started killing Dragons!”

 

Nito jaw opened wider, and loud, raucous groan echoing from within. Then, suddenly, he stopped. The mist stopped pouring, the groans coming to an abrupt stop. **“Your eyes…** ” the Gravelord whispered.

 

“If you’re trying to change the subject, you’re doing a really shitty job of it!” Garret spat.

 

“ **They are glowing. Red.** ”

 

Garret sucked in a breath, jerking backwards. That couldn’t be true! He reached into his satchel, fumbling for a bit before pulling out a sword. He held it aloft, barely catching the reflection his glowing, red, eyes cast, before returning to their previous blue hue. The sorcerer gasped, dropping the blade. “I—I—I,” he stammered, “I had no idea. Do they always do that when I get mad?” he whispered to himself.

 

“ **I never thought I’d see those eyes again**.” Nito said numbly.

 

“Well, stick around,” Garret said, “I’m sure Gwyndolin will do something that’ll trigger it.”

 

“ **Not like that, fool.** ” Nito grunted, **“Those eyes look more akin to a Pygmy’s than a Human’s.** ”

 

Garret furrowed his brow, “What, you mean they look less…feral, you called it?”

 

Nito nodded, drawing up to his full height, “ **The red eyes of early men were…impossibly bright. They shone beyond the eye, and the glow ebbed and flowed erratically. The eyes of Pygmies, however,** ” he paused slightly, **“They were refined, in a sense. Controlled.** ” He stared down at the human, puzzled, “ **What makes you different, I wonder? Have the corrupting effects of the Dark Soul faded with time**?”

 

Garret shook his head, thinking on the Darkwraiths, on Kirk’s warning. “I don’t think that’s it,” he said. He turned his thoughts to the future, to Hexes and Dark Magic. The people that used them. He pursed his lips, “I think…I think I’m fine because I _know_ I’ll be fine.”

 

Nito hummed, “ **You know, as in you believe in yourself? Or you know, as in you’ve seen it**?”

 

“Dark Magic—known as ‘Hexes’ to some—becomes…” Garret paused, thinking of what to say. “…It takes over Pyromancy’s place as the ‘outcast’ magic. Pyromancy actually becomes an accepted type of magic, in the future,” he added.

 

“ **Interesting** ,” the Gravelord replied.

 

Garret nodded, “Yes, very. Now, remember what I said about a schedule? Well, I’d like to move on the next few items on my agenda.” At that moment, Benito cawed, flying down to perch on Garret’s shoulder.

 

Nito nodded, “ **Of course**.”

 

“So, I guess I’ll get you later, when I’m ready to,” Garret gulped, “take over for Gwyn.”

 

“ **Actually** ,” Nito grunted, “ **I’m leaving the Catacombs.** ”

 

“Uh, what?”

 

“ **I grow tired of this place** ,” the Gravelord said, “ **And it sounds like things are starting to get lively again in Anor Londo. It will be…nice to visit the city once more.** ”

Garret hummed; he honestly hadn’t expected this. “Okay then. Uh, see you there, I suppose.”

**“Nonsense,** ” Nito said, “ **We leave together**.”

 

Garret pursed his lips, looking back at the stone coffin, “…It’ll be a tight squeeze.” Nito chuckled, wordlessly. He then gestured for Garret to step back. The young man did so hesitantly.

 

The Gravelord smiled widely, standing up to his full height. He tilted his main head upward, planting his blade in the ground. He stayed like that for a moment, long enough for Garret to step forward, a question on his lips. Then, the ground around the blade glowed red.

 

Garret quickly jumped back as the red light lanced up the Gravelord’s blade. It travelled upwards, thin, pulsing, crimson lines spreading all throughout Nito’s body. Then, black mist started to seep from his body. Slowly, like a fine mist, then gradually increasing until it was a torrent of black fog, crimson light somehow shining through. Then, the fog faded, revealing a lone skull, held up by a skeletal arm sticking out from the ground, with a rope-like series of bones sticking out from the top of it.

 

The skull’s jaw clacked twice, “Oof, that always feels weird.”

 

Garret’s jaw dropped. He hesitantly stepped forward, “What just happened?”

 

Nito grunted, “I cast off the majority of my body; left something for you to carry around.”

 

“For me to…carry.”

 

Nito’s skull wiggled in place, “Obviously.”

 

Garret reached out, grabbing the bone-rope. “Sure,” he laughed, “why not?” He lifted Nito up, running his hand along the bone-rope. He then lowered the Gravelord.

 

“Surely you don’t plan on placing me near your backside?” the Lord of Death deadpanned.

 

Garret rolled his eyes but brought the skull back up regardless. He looked down at his body, before deciding on a buckle on his chest-piece. He carefully looped the Gravelord into place. He moved in place, the Lord’s skull bouncing on his chest, “Comfy?”

 

“Relatively.”

 

“Great. Now le—oh!” Garret snapped his fingers, lifting Nito up to speak-face-to-face, “What about Leeroy?”

 

Nito hummed lightly, “One moment,” he said. Then, he moaned lowly, black mist seeping from his mouth and eyeholes. Then, as abruptly as it began, it stopped. Nito’s jaw clacked a couple times, “He shall meet us on the other side.”

 

Garret nodded, setting Nito back down, “Great. Also, should I be worried about getting poisoned?” Benito squawked worriedly.

 

“Eh,” Nito replied, “it’d take a lot more than that to cause any lasting damage.”

 

Garret smiled weakly, “Great…”

 

**Line Break**

 

True to his word, Paladin Leeroy awaited the three of them just outside the Stone Coffin. The man kneeled, “My Lord, I am at your command.”

 

Nito grunted, “ **Arise, my Servant**.” When Leeroy rose to his full height, he continued, “ **The time has come; my end is nigh. This man before you shall lead me to Anor Londo. To my end.** ” The Gravelord hummed lightly, **“You have served me loyally. Should you wish it, I shall absolve you of your vows**.”

 

The Paladin was silent for a long moment, giving Garret time to look him over. His armor looked aged—a few missing chinks in the chainmail here and there—but it was well-kept regardless. It then occurred to Garret that Paladin Leeroy was _old_. He was described as the first _ever_ Undead to come from the Way of White, the first one to undertake a ‘quest’ to Lordran. Briefly, he wondered if Leeroy’s ‘quest’ was an actual, sanctioned mission to try and find a cure, and the whole ‘dump our problems in Lordran’ thing was something the Church developed later, or if it was all a lie to start? He supposed it would be something to talk about as they traversed the rest of the Catacombs.

 

“My Lord,” Leeroy said, bringing Garret back to the matter at hand, “I wish to stay bound to you.” The ancient Paladin pressed his right hand to his chest, bowing slightly, “You have kept me safe and sane throughout my long, long life. The least I can do is stay by your side, until the very end.”

 

Nito hummed, “ **I see…** As you wish, then **.** ”

 

Garret took that as his cue. He stepped forward, extending an arm, “Hey. Name’s Garret, don’t think I told you that before. This is Benito,” he added, gesturing to the bird perched on his shoulder. Benito cawed in greeting.

 

Leeroy shook the offered limb, staring at Benito, then looking back at Garret, “Yes…You struck a deal with Pinwheel.”

 

“Yup, that was me!” Garret said with a smile. He then gasped, “Oh, Nito! Gotta ask, you think you can help them?”

 

Nito hummed lightly, “You’re asking me to assist you in your endeavor to heal the creature that tried to subvert death and _steal_ from me?”

 

Garret blinked, “…Is that a no?”

 

A sigh, “…I can think of one way. It’s a bit of an involved process, however, and requires Pinwheel’s complete cooperation.”

 

“Wait, really?” Garret asked, bewildered.

 

“Really?” Leeroy parroted incredulously.

 

_CRAWK_ , Benito crowed.

 

“You doubt my words?”

 

Garret scratched his chin, “Well, to be honest I was expecting some more resistance.”

 

“You have expressed a fair amount of irritation towards it,” Leeroy added.

 

Benito trilled lightly.

 

“Oh, I’m still furious at their past actions,” Nito said voice gaining a hard edge. “That fire will not fade so long as I live—which, admittedly, won’t be much longer.” He then sighed, his anger giving way to weariness, “But they have suffered long enough; their punishment has been dealt far beyond the scope of their crime.”

 

Leeroy hummed lowly, “As you command, my Lord.”

 

 Garret smiled, “Hey, works for me! C’mon boys, let’s get moving!” Garret led them outside, then stopped as he saw the skeletons in the distance. He groaned in disgust, “Right, these guys.”

 

“Ah, yes,” Nito growled, “Another thing to blame Pinwheel for.”

 

Garret frowned, “How do you figure?”

 

Leeroy answered, “Do you remember the necromancers you and your allies fought?” Garret nodded. “Well, they rose up with Pinwheel to steal from Lord Nito. Used their magic to raise the bodies that lay in the tombs, to keep the Gravelord himself from raising them in retaliation.”

 

“I see…wait, all the necromancers are gone, though.”

 

“Are they?” Nito asked, “You killed all of them?”

 

Garret shrugged, “Not personally, but yeah.”

 

The Gravelord chuckled, “Well, that makes this easier. Hold me up,” he commanded before Garret could say anything. The Undead hesitantly did so. “Brace yourself,” Nito briefly offered in warning.

 

Then, his bony jaw clacked open, and black mist seeped out from Nito’s mouth with a low groan. Which grew louder, and louder. The mist had grown into a steady stream, pooling on the ground and, to Garret’s slight alarm, covering his feet. Then, Nito _roared_. So loud and hard that Garret’s arm shook from the force of it. Soon after, the whole of the Catacombs began to rumble. Next, the skeletons before them started to convulse. They shook and shook, rattling until they started to fall apart into haphazard piles. White light rose up from the piles of bones, and after hovering in the air for a moment, shot towards Nito’s gaping maw. More lights followed the first few, dozens and dozens of white wisps flying from all over the catacombs.

 

Finally, the stream of lights ended, and the black fog was sucked back up into Nito’s skull. Suddenly, the Gravelord twisted around, and Benito cawed, flapping his wings and rising in the air. Before Garret could get a word in, Nito’s jaw snapped open, and a torrent of light burst forth from the Lord of Death’s maw, enveloping both Garret and Leeroy in white. But, despite his fears, Garret was not in pain. If anything, he felt empowered. Stronger. As if he’d slain a Boss.

 

When the light slowly vanished, the Undead Seer lifted the Gravelord higher, “Did…did you just blast us with the _Souls_ of every skeleton here?”

 

Nito bobbed in place, “Yes. Mind you, I could have kept it all for myself, but you need all the help you can get, and you, Leeroy…consider it a reward for your service.”

 

Leeroy stood still for a moment. He then hastily dropped to his knees, “You are too kind, my Lord.”

 

Nito hummed warmly, “Think nothing of it.”

 

Garret grinned, “Hey, free Souls are always welcome. Gives us a good excuse to drop by a Bonfire.” Before Garret took another step, however, a pit formed in his stomach, “Wait…you took the Souls of _every_ skeleton here?”

 

Nito grunted, “I may have missed the ones in the Tombs further below, but none remain here that can accost you.”

 

“No, not that.” Garret cursed, “There’s a skeleton here that’s sane; a blacksmith named Vamos.”

 

 “A _sane_ skeleton, you say?” Nito turned to Leeroy, “Did you know of this, Leeroy?”

 

The Paladin shook his head, “No, my Lord.”

 

“He managed to hide himself away,” Garret said, “In a hallway that, until he broke open a wall, could only be accessed by dropping down a pit.”

 

Nito clacked his teeth, “I am afraid he was most likely consumed.”

 

Garret sighed, “Can you bring him back to life?”

 

Leeroy grunted, “Whatever he was, it wasn’t living?”

 

“Can you?” Garret pressed on, ignoring the Paladin.

 

“Perhaps,” Nito said, “It will depend of the state of his bones.” At Garret’s furrowed brow, he added, “The only thing keeping those things together was the Souls trapped within them. I fully expect most of them to have crumbled to dust by the time you deem your tasks finished.”

 

Garret nodded, “Then I guess the Bonfire’s going to have to wait.” That said, he reattached Nito to his chest piece, sprinting forward. He slid to a stop at the drop leading to the bottom of the Catacombs.

 

“Please tell me you’re not—of course you are,” Nito cut himself off as Garret jumped down the ledge. The Undead did his best to slid down the cliff but lost his footing and ended up tumbling down halfway through. He landed in a dizzy heap, clutching his head. “Ugh,” he groaned, “I don’t know if that was better or worse than just jumping off and landing on my feet.”

 

“Worse,” Nito ground out, “Did you forget that I am with you?”

 

Garret shakily rose to his feet, “Oh, quit your whining. It’ll take a lot more than that to kill you.”

 

“Hm…I suppose you, of all, people can make such a claim.”

 

Garret smirked, “No kidding.”

 

“You’re a very rash man,” came Leeroy’s smooth timbre from behind him, “I hope you realize that.”

 

“Gah!” Garret screeched, jumping back. He then screamed further as he found himself on the edge of the small outcrop he was standing on. Leeroy quickly reached out, pulling him to safety. Garret panted heavily, clutching his heart, “Don’t do that? Wait,” he frowned, “How did you get down so quickly? And quietly?”

 

“The tunnels,” Leeroy gestured behind him to a slowly closing opening in the cliffside.

 

Garret slapped his forehead, groaning, “I forgot about those.”

 

“To be fair,” Nito spoke up, “So did I.”

 

A sharp trill sounded overhead, and Benito glided down, settling back on Garret’s shoulder. Garret rubbed the bird’s head, “Did you remember the tunnels?” The bird stayed silent, but the gleam in his eyes told Garret all he needed to know.

**A/N: I considered having Nito form an actual body but having him just be a skull seemed funnier. Also, I ended up splitting this into two chapters because it was getting a little long. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36:

Unorthodox Solutions

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Powerful Beings”**

“Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak”

**Line Break**

 

Garret sighed sadly at the pile of bones and dust before him. “Can you fix him?”

 

“No,” Nito replied. “Rather, I could, but you said he was a blacksmith, no?” At Garret’s nod, he continued, “Well, it looks like his arms were among the first bones to go. I can breathe life into what’s left, but without his arms…”

 

“He might as well be dead,” Garret finished sadly, “I hear you.”

 

“…An odd place to call home,” Leeroy said, poorly trying to change to subject.

 

“I’m more curious about the lava pooled in those coffins, myself,” Nito added.

 

Garret ignored the pair, kneeling down in front of Vamos’s remains. He shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s for the best,” Nito said somberly. “Even if he were as sane as you say, the life of a skeleton is not an easy one.”

 

Garret was silent for a moment. Then, he said, “Vamos…I honestly don’t know what his deal was. All I can say is, like any decent Undead being, he had a goal.”

 

“What goal?” Leeroy asked.

 

“There’s an Ember down in Izalith—well, just before Izalith. It’s made of a piece of the Chaos Flame; it would allow him to infuse weapons with Chaos magic. Somehow, that translates to the weapon’s strength increasing proportional to how much Humanity you hold within you.”

 

“Really?” Nito hummed, “But, that would mean…well, only humans could properly use such an Infusion.”

 

“Yeah, stumps me too.” Garret reached towards Vamos’s remains, dusting off his skull. As he did so, something glinted from the pile, shining in his eyes. Garret winced, “What the...ah, right. The helm.”

 

“Helm?” Leeroy parroted.

 

Garret pulled Vamos’s horned helm free, wincing when a few bones rattled along the ground, “Sorry, Vamos.”

 

Leeroy stepped closer, “Can I see that?” he asked, holding his hands out. Garret nonchalantly tossed it to him.

 

Leeroy held the golden helm up, turning it over. “This is…an old piece.”

 

“Hold me up,” Nito commanded. Garret did so. “…You are right, Leeroy. I recognize the design; it was popular in Anor Londo ages ago.” He turned, staring down at Vamos’s crumbling remains, “I wonder where he got it?”

 

“Graverobbing?” Garret supplied.

 

Nito shook slightly, “Highly unlikely. At least, unlikely to have been done in the Catacombs. The majority of the people buried here are from when we warred with the Dragons. This style of helm didn’t come into fashion until some centuries after that.” Nito grunted, “I suppose the secret dies with him.”

 

Garret sighed somberly, “Guess you’re right.” Reached down, gingerly grabbing Vamos’s skull—along with his strange, but cool, bone-beard. He carefully set the skull on Vamos’s anvil, centering it. He then grabbed the hammer laying on the ground, propping it up against the anvil. Finally, he took the helm from Leeroy, resting it beside Vamos’s skull.

 

Garret bowed his head, “Rest easy, Vamos.” He turned to leave, only to pause at something flickering in one of the lava pools. He peered closer, “…Is that a Flame?”

 

“I believe so,” Nito said.

 

“An Ember?” Leeroy added.

 

Garret nodded. The Seer then lifted his right hand up, summoning his Pyromancy Flame. After a fire came to life within his palm, he clenched his fist, feeding the fire within him. The flame quickly spread out from his palm, reaching out to cover his whole hand, and then his arm, stopping just before the shoulder.

 

Garret took a couple quick breaths, then plunged his fire-wreathed arm into the lava. He bit back a groan as, even protected by his own Flame, the heat from the magma lanced up his arm. But, he managed to grab onto the Ember regardless, and quickly wrenched it free.

 

Lava gently seeped from the Ember, splashing on the ground.

 

“What does this one do?” Leeroy asked as Garret gently shook off the rest of the magma from his arm.

 

“It infuses weapons with Fire. It’s mainly a stepping stone to a greater Fire infusion, or the Chaos infusion…hopefully Boram, Andre, or Rickert can figure out how to make it work.”

 

“Boram’s a genius,” Nito said, “he’ll work it out faster than you can blink.”

 

Garret grunted, pocketing the cooled Ember, “Good to know.” He turned around, “C’mon, let’s help Pinwheel then get out of here.”

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret stared down the giant stone coffin—Pinhweel’s lair. “Never really thought about it, but this place is a serious fire hazard.” he said.

 

“It’s insane. Do you really think it cares for safety?”

 

The young Undead lightly glared over his shoulder, “You don’t have to come with, you know.”

 

Leeroy scoffed, hefting his hammer in both hands, “I have sworn to protect Gravelord Nito. You seek to have a meeting with a creature that actively sought to harm him; I’d be stupid to just let you on your way.”

 

Garret narrowed his eyes lightly, scoffing, “So long as you don’t _do_ anything stupid.” Leeroy stiffened slightly but said nothing.

 

Garret looked down at Nito, “You’re sure you can help them?”

 

The Gravelord was silent for a moment. Eventually, he let out a soft, “Yes.”

 

The Seer nodded, “Well then, let’s get to work.” He turned to his left, at Benito, who was nervously clinging to an outcrop on the wall. “You can wait back up, Benito.”

 

The bird looked between Garret, the coffin, and the sky, before squawking, and quickly flying upwards.

 

Nito shook slightly, “That bird…awful quirky, isn’t he?”

 

Garret cocked a brow, “Is that a bad thing?”

 

“It is when I never intended for him to have a personality.”

 

Garret pondered the problem, before setting it aside, “Eh, you’re old. Slip-ups happen.”

 

Nito growled lowly.

 

“Oh, like I’m wrong?”

 

A short cough sounded from behind them. Garret grinned widely, “See, Leeroy agrees.”

 

“Paladin?” Nito ground out.

 

Leeroy quickly walked past the pair, “What are we waiting for?” he rapidly said, dropping down into the coffin. Garret snickered, then dropped down himself.

 

After taking a moment to make sure both Leeroy and Nito were alright, he stepped forward, saying, “Pinwheel! Come out! I think I can help you, now!”

 

The area was silent for a moment. Then, wind started to rush into the coffin. The air swirled before them, and Pinwheel appeared in a flash of white light.

 

The conjoined being floated in the air, their three masked heads twitching as they moved forward. They then froze, all three heads fixed on Garret. The skull hanging off his chest, specifically.

 

The young man held his hands up defensively, “Easy…”

 

The Mother and Child wailed, curling up against each other. The Father growled, waving his six arms threateningly.

 

“Easy, Easy!” Garret shouted, “Nito and Leeroy are with me.” Pinwheel’s movements grew more erratic, the lanterns at the end of their arms glowing brighter and brighter. “He wants to help you!” Garret exclaimed.

 

That got a different reaction. Pinwheel stilled, no longer moving or moaning. Their lanterns burned as bright as ever, but they did not hold them in an offensive manner.

 

Garret lifted Nito up, “Tell them.”

 

The Gravelord grunted, “…Make no mistake, I have not forgotten your crime.” The Father growled. “However,” Nito pressed on, “I would be remiss if I allowed you to…exist as you currently are. These last centuries have been punishment enough. I do not forgive your crime, but I am willing to pardon it.”

 

Garret smiled, “See? He means well?” Pinwheel stared silently at the two. They then shifted their heads to the side, behind Garret. The Seer laxly waved his hand, “Don’t mind Leeroy, he’s no trouble.”

 

The Paladin grunted, but fixed his hammer on his back,  said nothing.

 

Garret held Nito further up, smiling, “Now, think we can get started on this whole ‘fixing’ thing?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Nito bobbed his head towards Garret, “First, you need to draw that blade attached to your hip.”

 

Garret blinked. And blinked again. And again. His smile slowly slid off his lips, face twisting to a stern frown. “…Is that a fucking joke?” he ground out.

 

The air grew cold, and the candles lining the massive coffin blew out in an instant. The only light left being the scant rays of sunlight filtering in from the top of the valley, and the dim lights of Pinwheel’s lantern. “This is the only way,” Nito intoned.

 

Garret growled, lifting Nito’s skull to stare into its dark, expansive eyeholes, “Bullshit!” A small splash of water entered his hearing. Without looking, he thrust he free-hand back, blasting Black Flames. “Piss off, Leeroy! I need to have quick chat with your boss.”

 

The Paladin cursed, scrambling backwards, “What on earth?!”

 

“ **Black Flames** ,” Nito rasped. “ **Keep your distance, Leeroy. Cooler heads may yet prevail.** ”

**“** One of those ‘cooler heads’,” Garret spat, “Better actually try and help Pinwheel!”

 

“ **I am!”**

 

“By killing them?!”

 

Nito grunted, “ **It’s the only way**.”

 

“Bullshit!” Garret spat. Pinwheel growled in agreement

 

“ **Be reasonable!** ” Nito roared, “ **Even if, _if_ , they were returned to their previous states, all that would await them is a slow end! This is the far more merciful option.**”

Garret frowned, calming slightly, “What do you mean?”

**“...Do you not know why Pinwheel is the way they are?”**

 

“No,” Garret admitted. “I know that they became,” he gestured to Pinwheel, “like _that_ after they rebelled against you, but I don’t know, explicitly, _why_ they did so.” He sighed, “Best I can infer, the Father’s Wife and Child were dead, and he wanted to bring them back to life. You wouldn’t let him.”

 

Nito hummed, “ **Close, but not quite.** ” He turned towards Pinwheel, “ **The Father, as you call him, did come to me to help his family, but they weren’t dead**.”

 

Garret frowned, “But why—ah!” he grunted, “Right, Lord of Death and _Decay_. Some sort of plague, then?”

 

Pinwheel groaned sadly, the Child shivering as the Mother did her best to comfort them. The Father was deathly still.

 

“ **I would not classify it as a plague, in truth; more like a small epidemic. But yes, his wife and child grew sick—a terrible disease, fills the lungs with an endless amount of fluids—and he sought me out. I rejected him, obviously; unlike some, _I_ do not try and delay the inevitable. I did offer to grant them swift, painless deaths, however. As you can see,** ” Nito hissed, **“he did not accept my offer. I thought the matter over, but then he rallied other like-minded fools and led a rebellion against me. They were somewhat successful,** ” he begrudgingly admitted, **“enough so that I had to enter a long slumber to regain my strength. But, as you can see, they lost, in the end.** ”

 

The Mother and Child whimpered, while the Father growled protectively.

 

“ **Come now** ,” Nito sneered, **“Are you so arrogant, so foolish, as to believe your path was the right one? Still, after all these years?** ”

 

The Father’s growls grew into a snarl, before he slumped over, crying lightly. The Mother and Child shifted, doing their best to comfort the Father.

 

Garret stared at the broken family before them. Nito’s story more-or-less corroborated with his own thoughts on Pinwheel’s history. It still sucked, but at least he was right. He pushed aside those thoughts, moving Nito back towards him, “There has to be a way to help them.”

 

Nito scoffed, “ **Like I told him,”** he gestured to the Father, **“all those years ago, there is _no cure_ for his wife and child’s affliction.** ”

 

Garret started to growl, but then stopped. He took a calming breath, “What about giving each of them their own bodies again?”

 

“… **Even if it were possible,”** Nito slowly stated, **“they’d just return to their original, sick states. The woman and child would die in weeks.”**

 

“That’s fine.”

 

Nito grunted confusedly. Pinwheel, though, gasped audibly. Angrily. The conjoined being them rushed forward, coming to a halt just in front of Garret. The Father and Mother groaned lowly, lanterns swirling menacingly.

 

“Oh, cool it!” Garret shouted, making them jerk back. “You too, Leeroy,” he said over his shoulder at the sound of splashing water. “Listen,” he turned back to Pinwheel, “what happened to you three was terrible, no doubt. But…this all started because you just…couldn’t move forward. There are some things,” he sighed, lowering his head, “some things you just can’t fight.” He lifted his head up, sternly frowning at the cursed creature, “You messed up, big time. I’m offering you a chance to, at the very least, die with dignity.”

 

The Mother grew silent, but the Father shook apoplectically. The Seer leaned forward, frown hardening. Pinwheel’s lanterns swirled dangerously, and Garret lit his Pyromancy Flame.

 

Then, a soft sob.

 

The Father froze, jerking around to see the Mother comfort a sobbing Child. He stared at the two, silently. The Mother moved slightly and was soon staring into the Father’s eyes. She nodded slowly. The Father moaned lowly, but she stayed silent. Resolute. Eventually, he gave up.

 

The Father turned to Garret, looking down and groaning softly.

 

Garret nodded, “Alright.” He returned his gaze to Nito, “You’re sure you can give them back their original bodies.”

 

Nito was silent for a moment. “I’d need some time to prepare,” he eventually stated, “but yes, I can separate the three of them.”

 

“Good.” The Seer looked back to Pinwheel, features softening, “I…I don’t know how to heal you. Best I can do is ask a Cleric I know about healing Miracles. And perhaps Seath’s archives has something on the disease that afflicts you two,” he said to the Mother and Child.

 

Pinwheel just moaned in reply, heads downcast.

 

Garret’s heart welled with pity, but he cast it aside. “Well, I guess we’re done here.” He reached into his satchel, pulling out a homeward bone, “Still got a few people I need to convince to head up with me, so I’ll drop you off at Firelink.” Garret waited until Pinwheel and Leeroy moved closer—Leeroy placing a hand on his shoulder, Pinwheel draping a couple lanterns on his head—before activating the homeward bone.

 

The bone easily crumbled to dust in his grip, a golden rune lighting up beneath his feet. He felt a tingle in his gut, which then spread throughout his body. The light grew, until it encompassed his whole world. A moment passed, and then the light started to dissipate, the sensation disappearing. Garret blinked, rubbing his eyes as Firelink Shrine came into view.

 

“Huh,” Nito said from his chest, “So _that’s_ what that feels like.”

 

“A pleasant feeling, no?” Leeroy said.

 

Pinwheel half-heartedly grunted in agreement.

 

“A little too bright, for my tastes.”

 

Garret scoffed, “Says the guy that spent untold centuries stuck in a cave.”

 

“Hello?” A loud voice called out from behind them, “Is anyone there?”

 

Leeroy whirled around, as did Pinwheel. “Who sai—”

 

“Ignore him, you two,” Nito said.

 

“But who—”

 

“I can hear you, whoever you are.”

 

Garret rolled his eyes, “Might as well meet him now,” he said, rising to his feet. “Just, stay here,” he gently gestured to Leeroy and Pinwheel, “I’m going to go gather the rest of the people down here.” Pinwheel—the Father, specifically—nodded, and hovered over to Mathias’s overturned pillar, resting on it. Leeroy stared at Garret for a moment, but eventually sat down at the Bonfire.

 

The Seer looked down at Nito, “You want to stay here, or come with me?”

 

“I think I’ll stick with you for the moment,” he replied, “Like I said, I’ve been stuck in the cave for _ages_.”

 

Garret nodded and walked the short way to Frampt. Upon seeing him, the toothy serpent blinked, “Greetings. Are you the one th—!” he froze, pupils widening, jaw dropping open. “th-th-tha-th-tha—” he started to stutter.

 

“Frampt!” Nito jovially shouted, “It’s been a long time!”

 

“L-L-Lord Nito!” Frampt eventually stammered out. “H-H-H-How are you?”

 

“Oh, I’m just _dandy_ ,” he drawled. “But this young man here—I believe you know him as the…what do you call yourself?”

 

“Chosen Undead,” Garret supplied.

 

“Ah yes. The ‘Chosen Undead’ here has informed me that, well, I was supposed to die at his hand. Did you know about that?”

 

Frampt gulped audibly, eyes darting about wildly, “Er, well, you see, G-Gravelord, I only—”

 

“Ah, I don’t care,” Nito cut him off.

 

“Y-You don’t?” Frampt whispered disbelievingly.

 

“You don’t?” Garret asked casually.

 

“Of course not,” the Lord of Death scoffed, “If I sought reprisal against every being that _planned_ on killing me, I’d have never gotten anything done.”

 

“How many people have planned to kill you?” Garret couldn’t help but ask.

 

“Oh, I stopped keeping count after the thousandth minor lord came to me, griping and moaning about some plague ravaging their lands.” He huffed, “I never should have named myself ‘Lord of Death and Decay’. That’s double the amount of circumstances people will needlessly blame me for.”

 

“Honestly, you just drew the short end of the straw.” At Nito’s questioning grunt, he elaborated, “Gwyn got his hands on the ‘Light Soul’, the Pygmy found the ‘Dark Soul’, and Quela got the ‘Life Soul’. Your soul, the ‘Death Soul’, is the only one with inherently negative connotations.”

 

“Hmm…I never called it that, but you’ve got a point.”  He sighed, clacking his jaw, “Maybe I should have taken Gwyn’s advice on that whole ‘Selling Yourself’ thing he kept blathering on about. Bah,” he huffed, “what did he know?”

 

“Your main form is a giant skeleton made-up of other skeletons, with a giant blade for a right arm. All wrapped up in a black, tattered cloak.” Garret deadpanned.

 

“That’s supposed to be a problem?” Nito flatly replied. The pair were silent for a moment, before erupting into laughter.

 

Frampt nervously wet his lips, “Ah…if that is all, Gravelord, Chosen Undead, may I suggest—”

 

“Shut it.” Garret said, smile not leaving his face. Frampt did so promptly. Garret continued, “I’ve still got a number of things I want to do before I place the Lordsvessel in its receptacle. So, you just sit tight until I need you.”

 

The toothy serpent gulped, “As you wish.”

 

Garret nodded, then turned around. “C’mon Nito,” he said, “Let’s see if we can’t convince the last few sane folks here to come with us.”

 

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Nito replied. “It’s _Anor Londo_. Even if it’s a bit too gaudy a city for myself to call home, it’s a lot better than this sinkhole.”  

 

**A/N: I thought I’d be done with Garret’s side of things at this point. Ah well. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**

 


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37:

Collector of the Sane

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Powerful Beings”**

“Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak”

**Line Break**

 

“Oh, no, no. I couldn’t possibly leave my moss, dearie.” The near-Hollow woman shook her head, gently running her fingers against the plants lining the sewer walls.

 

Garret sighed, pursing his lips, “Can’t you just…take it with you?”

 

“Move my moss?” She said derisively, “Do you know anything about Moss?” Garret was about to respond, but she barreled onward, “They can’t grow just _anywhere_. At least, not well. There’re so many different factors—temperature, humidity, nutrients, light—that go into moss-growth. No,” she said forcefully, “the only place I’d even consider moving is the Depths.” At Garret’s alarmed stare, she snorted, “Not that I actually _would_ , but it’s the only other place that I could grow my moss.”

 

“There are sewers in Anor Londo,” Nito suddenly said.

 

“Really?” The woman whispered, leaning forward.

 

“Oh right,” Garret said, “Those do exist.”

 

“Quite.” Nito nodded at the woman, “They should prove an adequate environment for your moss.”

 

“My moss, growing underneath the city of the gods?” She giggled giddily, “Oooh! Okay, okay!” she exclaimed, “Just give me a minute! Need to make sure my little beauties are good to move.”

 

Garret nodded, “Okay. But, uh, how are you going to get out of here.”

 

The woman stopped collecting moss, “Oh, well that’s easy,” she said. Moving towards the bars, gripping one of the bars in both hands. With a quick grunt, she lifted the bar up, shifting it forward and letting it fall to the ground. She did the same with three more bars. She leaned forward, bringing her emaciated, desiccated face inches before his own, “See, easy.”

 

Garret chuckled, “Okay then. See you at Firelink.” He snapped his fingers, “Before I forget,” he said, reaching into his satchel.

 

The woman’s intrigued grunt turned into a shocked gasp at the Humanity Sprite floating on his palm. She stepped back, hands clasped over her mouth.

 

Garret leaned forward, “Go on, take it.”

 

“Uh…what?” she squeaked.

 

“I’m of a mind,” Nito said.

 

“Ah, it’s fine,” Garret moved the sprite closer to the woman, “I’ve got more.”

 

“Y-You’re serious?” the woman stammered. At Garret’s eager nod, she hesitantly reached her hands out. She paused just before grabbing the sprite, “This isn’t a trick, right?”

 

“I’d have to be a special type of jerk to try and kill you now.”

 

She smiled warily, “Suppose so.” She gulped down the rest of her anxiety, quickly grabbing the sprite. She stared at it for a moment, and then crushed it in her hands. She gasped raggedly as black mist curled around her body, sinking into her flesh. She moaned, “Almost forgot how good that feels.” She looked down at her body, poking her arm, “It’ll be nice to have actual flesh again.”

 

Nito grunted, “I’ve never really seen the appeal.”

 

Garret and the Undead woman stared down at the skull, but ultimately said nothing. Then, the woman grunted, “So how are we getting to Anor Londo?”

 

“There’s a few other people I want to gather,” Garret said, “So for now, just head down to Firelink Shrine. There’s already two people there, Leeroy, and Pinwheel.” Garret frowned, “Well, I say people, but Pinwheel…well, you’ll find out.”

 

“Well that’s not ominous,” the woman muttered.

 

She started to move past Garret, only for him to quickly tap her shoulder, “Oh, another thing. What’s your name?”

 

The woman blinked—rather, the holes where her eyes should be twitched, the pinpricks of light held within dimming and brightening. “Been a long time since anyone’s asked for my name.” She smiled at him, her broken, misshapen teeth not taking any of its warmth away, “Rosalie, but my friends call me Rosie.”

 

“Rosie,” the name sounded familiar to Garret’s ears. He ruminated on it for a moment, before snapping his fingers, “You traveled with Mathias and Mildred, ages ago!”

 

Rosie froze, before chuckling bitterly, “My, but those are two people I haven’t heard hide-or-tail from in a long time.”

 

“They’re still alive,” Garret quickly said.

 

“What?!” she exclaimed.

 

Garret nodded, smiling widely, “Yup. Mathias is in Anor Londo right now, and Mildred should be heading up soon enough. Actually, I’ll need to check on her and the others in a bit,” he added beneath his breath.

 

“I, well I never thought I’d ever see them again.” she looked up at him, frowning, “What about Romeo and Stanley?”

 

Garret thought on the two unknown men. On where Mathias said he’d last seen them going. He pursed his lips, “I’m pretty sure Stanley is still alive. With any luck, I’m meeting him next. Romeo, though…” he trailed off, thinking about the Forest Hunters Covenant and it’s dozen-or-so members. He shrugged, “I’ll find out later.”

 

She levelled him a blank stare, “Couldn’t you find out now?”

 

Another shrug, “If he’s where I think he is, I’ll meet him later. Unless,” Garret looked down at Nito, “Do you know if Romeo is dead?”

 

Nito scoffed, “Do you honestly expect me to know something like that?”

 

“Didn’t you tell Havel that you knew about us when we killed Hollows?”

 

“Yes, but I was _actively_ searching for you. Besides—how long ago did you sperate from your friends, my dear,” he quickly said to Rosie.

 

“I stopped counting after the third century.”

 

“Well there you go,” Nito grunted, “You can’t seriously expect me to recall one Undead’s death from at least three-hundred years ago?”

 

“Does seem a bit unreasonable to ask of a talking skull,” Rosie added. She then peered down at Nito, “Where’d you find him anyway?”

 

“I was resting in the Catacombs beneath Firelink Shrine.”

 

Rosie hummed, “I didn’t think any of you skeletons were intelligent.”

 

Nito laughed, a deep, joyful sound. “My dear, I am no _mere_ skeleton.”

 

“Oh?” Rosie scoffed, amusement coloring her tone, “what are you then? Nito himself?” She giggled to herself, only to slowly come to a stop at Garret and Nito’s blank stares. She looked between the two for a moment. Then, her jaw fell open. “Y-You’re wearing the Lord of Death as a _necklace_?”

 

“He’s actually just hanging off my chest piece.” Garret rubbed his chin, “If he were smaller though…”

 

“This is the smallest I can go,” Nito supplied, “Unless you want to carry a child-sized skull?”

 

Garret blanched, “A bit too macabre for my tastes, thanks.”

 

“I’ll be leaving now,” Rosie bluntly stated, turning on her heel towards Firelink.

 

“See you in a bit,” Garret called out to her rapidly retreating form.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret sighed, bringing his sword down in a quick, brutal slash. The Dark Sword—chosen weapon of the Darkwraiths—easily cleaved through his foe’s armor. The Hollow gurgled lowly and fell limp.

 

“On your left.”

 

“URRGH!” Another Hollow shrieked, leaping at his, swinging its weapon wildly. With a flick of his wrist, Black Flames burst from Garret’s hand, engulfing the crazed corpse. It screeched, dropping to the ground and frantically batting at the unnatural fire. To no avail.

 

Nito grimaced, “That takes me back.” Garret grunted inquisitively, prompting Nito to continue. “As you can imagine, our decision to brand your ancestors was not a popular one.”

 

“Really?” Garret snarked, walking towards the building where the Undead he heavily suspected was Stanley lived. And the two spear-wielding Hollows guarding the roof.

 

“Yes, really,” Nito drawled. “It wasn’t too big a rebellion—we put it down quickly enough. But to see that magic put to use on something other than Dragons.” The skull shivered, “Well, in truth it cemented our decision to brand your kind and be done with it.”

 

“Good to know,” Garret ground out, coming to a stop just before the two Hollows. They hadn’t noticed him yet. Thus, he reached his satchel, pulling out his Catalyst.

 

“Oh right,” Nito said, “You can cast Sorceries. I almost forgot about that.”

 

Garret shrugged, “I haven’t really been using them lately. That’ll happen when you travel with three other people with ranged weaponry.”

 

“Is that a White Bark tree branch? Heh, I suppose breaking the rules of space-time to summon the princess of a dead kingdom does have its benefits.

 

Garret’s mood darkened, which Nito noticed. “Ah, forgive me. I forgot about your recent…spat.”

 

Garret scoffed, “You mean my complete fuck-up?” He didn’t let Nito reply, however, firing a spell at the nearest Hollow and then rushing forward. The spell forced the Hollow into a stumble, making it easy to cut off its head. Before the second one was able to retaliate, Garret stuck his palm out over its shield, blasting it’s face with Black Flames. It crumpled to the ground without a sound.

 

“You’re pretty good at that,” Nito observed.

 

“Killing or casting Magic.”

 

“Ignoring tough subjects, but those too, yes.” Garret smiled grimly and made his way down the stairs. “So,” Nito began, “this man we’re meeting, who is he, exactly?”

 

Garret’s smirk lightened, “You’ll see in a minute.” He walked out the building, and upon seeing the Undead sitting atop a rug with a katana leaning against his lap, gestured grandly at him, “Hey, long time no see! You wouldn’t happen to be Stanley, would it?”

 

The Undead leaned back, whistling, “Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Where’d you hear it?”

 

“Mathias.”

 

Stanley smiled softly, “He’s still alive? That’s great! Yulia was so worried about him when we parted ways, made me a little jealous to be honest.” He giggled, gently patting Yulia’s pommel.

 

“Ah, I see. He’s delusional,” Nito commented from Garret’s chest.

 

Stanley blinked, “Is that a talking skull?”

 

“Yes,” both Garret and Nito replied.

 

“Huh…Neat.”

 

“Anyway,” Garret said, leaning against a wall, “I’m going around and bringing people up to Anor Londo. Feel like coming up?”

 

Stanley gasped, “The City of the Gods? Ooh, that’s be lovely, wouldn’t it Yulia?” He paused, however, saying, “Wait, how would I know we’d be safe? Us Undead aren’t looked kindly upon, after all.”

 

“You’re with me,” Garret stated, “and as long as you don’t try anything stupid, like stealing,” he sent the merchant a pointed stare, “things should be fine.”

 

Stanley quickly held his hands up, “I’ve only ever taken from the dead…the actual dead,” he clarified.

 

“That’s supposed to make it better,” Nito muttered darkly

 

“So, you want to come with?”

 

Stanley nodded, rising to his feet. “Sure. A change of scenery could be nice, I suppose. Plus, and we did come here to this dreary land to enter Anor Londo in the first place, right Yulia?” He brought the blade near his face, whispering lovingly at it.

 

“Great,” Garret clapped his hands. “A few things. First, I’ll use a homeward bone to take us back to Firelink Shrine. I’ve still got a couple more people to meet, so you just sit tight with the other’s already there.” Stanley nodded slowly. “Second, this is for you.” Garret reached into his satchel, pulling out a Humanity Sprite. Stanley spluttered loudly but didn’t say anything coherent.

 

“So, you’re okay with just giving those things like candy,” Nito said.

 

“Eh, not like I need _all_ of them,” Garret replied.

 

Stanley frantically waved his free hand, “Woah, wait a minute! Are you being serious right now?”

 

“Yes!” Garret rolled his eyes, “God, you and Rosie. Haven’t either of you heard of acts of kindness.”

 

“Rosie?!” Stanley exclaimed, “She’s still kicking?”

 

“Oh yeah. She was hanging out in the aqueduct just over there,” he gestured to the left.

 

“Huh, fancy that. If I’d known, I’d have visited. Oh, don’t be like that!” he scolded Yulia, “She’s just a friend. You’re the only one for me!”

 

“This is…” Nito trailed off, unsure.

 

“Just roll with it,” Garret cut him off.

 

Giving Stanley a moment to absorb the Humanity Sprite, Garret then beckoned him over. He knelt down, crushing the Homeward Bone in his hand. The pair vanished in a golden light.

 

Before the light had fully dissipated, Garret heard Leeroy ask, “Have you finished?”

 

The sorcerer shook his head, “Still got,” he mentally listed those left in Lordran, “…four people left to check.”

 

Leeroy moved to speak, only for a young voice to interrupt him with a loud cry. “Stanley! You are alive!”

 

“Rosie,” he gasped, “You’re human!”

 

Rosie nodded, smiling widely to show off a full-set of pearl-white teeth. Garret jerked back, shocked by how young she looked, and sounded. He’d always assumed the rasp in her voice was due to age, not her Hollow-fication. She had curly red-hair and dark green eyes, freckles splattered across her face. She was still dressed in her rags, though. Garret decided to leave some clothes and armor for her—and Stanley, while he was at it—to change into. She did a twirl, beaming at them, “Oh, I forgot how smooth skin was! And look!” she bobbed her head, her curls bouncing, “I can do this again!”

 

“You were unnaturally proud of that!” Stanley said with a laugh. He then tapered off into a soft smile, “It’s great to see you again.”

 

“You too,” Rosie’s smile softened.

 

Stanely grunted confusedly, then gasped, “Yulia!” he cried, bringing his blade level to his face, “What are you saying? It’s just Rosie! I’d never do that to you!”

 

Rosie smile morphed into a frown, “Oh right, I’d forgotten about that.”

 

Garret stepped away as Stanley continued to ‘converse’ with Yulia. “You mean he’s always been like that?”

 

“Oh, sure. I mean,” she crossed her arms, voice dropping to a whisper, “it wasn’t as bad as it is now, but he always talked to thing as if it were alive. I swear, the things people—What the hell are you doing?!” she suddenly shouted.

 

Garret jumped back as she surged forward, towards Pinwheel. The conjoined being, in the middle of floating towards them, froze, and gestured to itself. “Yes, you!” Rosie stomped her feet, wildly gesticulating, “You were trying to peek at my Moss!” she accused.

 

The Father, Mother, and Child all stared blankly at her. Indeed, there was a wet burlap sack of what Garret assumed to be moss lying atop the pillar Pinwheel was near. By all accounts, they were content to just ignore it. Rosie, however, didn’t think that was the case, given the escalating accusations she laid on Pinwheel’s…feet.

 

Garret felt a hand on his shoulder, and he tore himself away from the scene to face an irritated Leeroy. “These people are insane,” he stated.

 

Nito guffawed, “What were you expecting, Paladin?”

 

Garret couldn’t see much through Leeroy’s helmet—which made him wonder how Leeroy himself could see out of it—but he could tell the man was scowling. “Are you certain that these people should be taken to Anor Londo? The City of the Gods—”

 

“City of the _one_ god,” Nito piped up.

 

“Soon to be two,” Garret added jokingly.

 

“Only temporarily, though.”

 

“Still counts.”

 

“But only for, what, a few days?”

 

“That’s actually a good question. Follow-up, how does the sun work? I mean…” Garret stopped himself. He lifted Nito’s skull up, and whispered, “After Gywnevere fled, the sun set and didn’t rise again.”

 

“Ah, another gap in your knowledge, it seems,” the Gravelord whispered back.

 

“Are you going to include me in this conversation?” Leeroy asked impatiently.

 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Garret cheekily replied. He lowered Nito, “Let’s continue this conversation on the way to our next recruits.”

 

“Very well. Which way?”

 

“Below, in New Londo.”

 

“New Londo,” Nito repeated with a bitter chuckle, “Heavens, that was a disaster waiting to happen!”

 

“Really? Well, that’ll be an interesting discussion.” He turned around, “Sit tight fo—Ah! Put that Humanity to good use, Stanley?”

 

The now human Stanley—who was bald, with dark-brown skin, coal-black eyes, and a fair bit of wrinkles on his forehead and around his lips and eyes—smiled back at Garret, revealing a full set of teeth. Briefly, Garret wondered if Stanley—and Rosie and, well, every Undead he’s met thus far—all naturally had immaculate teeth, or if becoming using up Humanity just fully restored a human’s body, including any previous injuries. He’d have to ask Oscar or Siegmeyer or Solaire if they had any scars. Stanley nodded, “Yup, human again, thanks to you.” His voice was still a bit raspy, though. “Very thankful for that, aren’t we Yulia?” He lovingly caressed Yulia’s sheath.

 

Before Garret could reply, Pinwheel suddenly floated before him. Garret jerked back with a yelp, prompting an apologetic moan from Pinwheel. They then gestured to the sky.

 

Garret frowned, “Sorry, not yet.” The Father growled lightly, but the conjoined being turned away, floating off to rest at a pillar.

 

Garret nodded to himself and made for the elevator to New Londo. Only to pause, “Ah, right. Get over here, you two!” He called out to Stanley and Rosalie. As they walked over, he reached into his satchel, “Figure you two would like something better than what you’re currently wearing.” He pulled out random bits of clothing—gauntlets, greaves, helmets, chest pieces. When he felt he’d gathered enough, he dusted off his hands, pointing at the pile. “Go nuts,” he told the two.

 

Rosie hummed, rubbing her chin as she contemplated the pile. Stanley showed much less reservation, and dug right in.

 

Garret left the two to their devices, briefly saying a goodbye to Leeroy. It was only when they started going down the elevator that Garret said, “First things first, about the sun.”

 

“Hm? Ah, yes.” Nito cleared his throat, “So, as I’m sure you know, the sun rises and sets normally on the human kingdoms.” Garret nodded. “But it’s always been a little…different, here. There is a cycle of day and night, to be sure. But the days are a tad longer than what you might be used to.”

 

“Let me guess,” Garret said as he stepped out the elevator, “Gwyn needed to keep up appearances as the ‘Lord of Light’?”

 

“There’s a good reason behind it.” At Garret’s questioning grunt, he continued, “See, Gwyn—like all us bearers of the first Souls—was immensely powerful. You should have seen us in the beginning, at the height of our power, during the War with the Dragons.” Nito chuckled wistfully, “Oh, the things we accomplished.”

 

Garret let the Gravelord reminisce for a moment. He then gently nudged the skull, “Got anything else to add?”

 

“Yes, yes!” A small cough, “Er, where was I…We all had immense power, but, as we started to settle down after our victory, we noticed that there were certain places and times where our already grand abilities would increase.”

 

Garret nodded in understanding, “The Sun’s energy increased Gwyn’s power. So, what? You got a power boost surrounded by dead things? Is that why you made your home in the Catacombs?”

 

“Yes. I didn’t plan on living there—Gwyn was already drawing up plans for a castle for me to inhabit. But when I discovered that being surrounded by all those corpses was actually doing me a favor, I figured, why not?”

 

“But Pinwheel still got the drop on you?”

 

Nito groaned disgustedly, “Thanks for reminding me.” Garret chuckled. “But we’re not invincible, as I’m sure you can attest. Even back in our prime, we knew we could die as quickly as we came alive. The number of times I almost fell the Dragons,” Nito shuddered.

 

Garret frowned sympathetically, grimly entertaining thoughts of Kalameet in Oolacile. A terrible decision, as that led him to think of Manus, which led him to think of Dusk, and his terrible treatment of her. He sighed deeply; he should have told her the truth from the start, when they first met. It still would have hurt, no doubt. Crushing her heart. But at least then she was just a stranger.

 

He cleared his throat, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “So, Gwyn used some sort of magic to make the Sun shine longer on Anor Londo, right?” Nito nodded. “Then, did Gwyn’s self-immolation cause the magic to where out, or did he charge Gywnevere with keeping it up, only for her to flee and let it fail?”

 

“Neither,” Nito’s huffed. “She _stole_ Gwyn’s enchantment as she fled.” His voice dipped into a growl, “Clever bitch.”

 

Garret grunted sympathetically, “And because Gwyndolin’s…Gwyndolin, all he could do was create an illusionary Sun.” He then frowned, “But wait, if the illusion is dispelled, then Anor Londo is eternally night. By your explanation, the sun should just rise and set as per normal.”

 

“That too is Gwyndolin’s doing,” Nito answered.

 

Garret hummed in thought. Then, an idea. “He tried to recreate Gwyn’s spell. And failed.”

 

“Actually, he didn’t. The spell worked exactly as intended.”

 

“What—ah, I see. Gwyndolin’s power come from the moon.”

 

Nito nodded, “So the spell lengthened the night. Obviously, Gwyndolin wasn’t fond of that.”

 

Garret said nothing, resuming the path down the elevator to New Londo. Only to stop again when he reached the first clearing. “Hmm…Ingward should be simple enough, but I actually don’t know how I’m going to convince Rickert to come with me.”

 

“Who?”

 

“A sorcerer blacksmith from Vinheim,” Garret replied. “He’s locked himself up down here, and by all accounts is pretty content with his lot in life.”

 

“Ah, as a sorcerer yourself, you’ll require his specific services later, and don’t want to trudge all the down here.”

 

“Actually, I probably won’t ever use his services.”

 

Nito bewildered, asked, “Then why do you want to move him?”

 

“There’s a few embers that he can make use of that I’d like to give him.”

 

“And why can you not just do that here?”

 

“Hey, Anor Londo has a lot of empty rooms. Plus, I don’t want to come back down here more than is required.”

 

“…Alright, sure.” Nito grunted, “So you need to get him to come with you? I think I can help with that.”

 

**Line Break**

Rickert hummed wordlessly as he stared out at the flooded ruins of New Londo. It was actually quite nice; the ghosts didn’t venture this far out, and there was just enough light to make out the silhouettes of the buildings. At certain angles, you couldn’t even see the water. Made the city look infinitely more peaceful than it actually was.

 

Briefly, he wished that Garret fellow and his friend would return so he could fix their armor or weapons. It felt good, working with his hands again. He knew a lot of other blacksmiths just used Repair Powder, but that took the fun out of the craft, in his opinion.

 

He let his mind wander to his old life, back in Vinheim. He didn’t really miss it, to be honest. Sure, it was nice to speak with other blacksmiths; to compare notes and help each other improve upon their chosen craft. But the politics the Scholars tried to drag everyone into…Even thinking about it made him grimaced in disgust.

 

Before he could further stew on such thoughts, however, he noticed a dark, grayish-fog filtered down from above. Not enough cover his cell, but enough to rapidly pool at his feet. He peered down curiously at the small pool of fog, only to jump back in fright as a large skeletal arm popped out from it. Along with three more. He stared in mute horror as the arms moved about languidly, eventually finding purchase with the bars of his cell. They pulled and pulled with supernatural might, the iron creaking under their grip. Until finally, the bars broke off, creating a gaping hole in Rickert’s prison.

 

The arms dropped the bars, and soon hovered before him, fingers twitching erratically. He gulped loudly, somehow finding his voice. “I-I-I assure you, whatever you are” he stammered, “I’m o-o-of no use to you!”

 

Then, a familiar face popped in from the left. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Garret said with a grin.

 

Rickert’s jaw dropped as Garret easily pushed one of the arms aside. He stared Rickert dead in the eye. “Feel like moving shop to Anor Londo?” he asked.

 

Rickert didn’t have it in him to question why this man was asking he move to the city of the gods. All he could do was nod jerkily, stammering, “S-Sure thing.”

 

Garret nodded, his grin returning full force. He then tilted his head up, “It worked!” he called out.

 

“Fantastic!” A voice said from above. Soon after, the skeletal arms crumbled to dust, and the pool of darkness they formed from vanished from sight. “Down I go!” the voice cried.

 

Garret held his arms up, and soon after caught something. Rickert numbly registered that it was a skull. Which then said to him, “Sorry if I scared you, but we’re on a schedule.”

 

Rickert hoped he managed a smile, “Oh…it’s no problem.”

 

Garret nodded, looking behind him. “Great! Now all we have to deal with are the ghosts.” He paused, then stared down at the skull, “Actually…do you think you could—”

 

“I could certainly try,” the skull jovially interrupted. Garret then held it up towards the city. The skull clacked its jaw a couple times, and then, to Rickert’s not-quite surprise, that same black fog from before poured out it. Not just it’s open jaw either; out of every available hole on it. Then, it wailed. A harsh, keening sound that made Rickert cover up in ears in the hopes of keeping them safe.

 

The city of New Londo lit up. Pale white lights sprung up all over the place, as if someone lit magic lanterns for a celebration. Then, each and every one of those lights rose in the air, collecting into a massive orb of white, enveloping the city in a pale light. The skull stopped screaming. It took a deep breath—as though this terrifying action was physically exhausting—and then dropped its jaw further, until it was just barely hanging onto the rest of it. The orb started to swirl, slowly, and then violently, the light shining brighter than the sun. Then, it extended, creating a funnel that reached out towards them. Rickert shrank back in fright, covering his face with his hands. It turned out to be unneeded, however, as the light flew into the skull’s gaping maw. When all the light had vanished into it, it snapped its jaw with a sharp _CLACK_. The skull then twisted in Garret’s hand, looking up at him. Its jaw fell open, and it blasted Garret with that very same light it had just absorbed.

 

Garret, after the lightshow had finally ended, shook his head, “Woo! That’s a pick-me-up. Thanks, Nito!”

 

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Nito easily replied.

 

Rickert let out a small laugh at the fact that the skull had a name. He blanched as the skull’s name registered. “N-N-Nito?” He stuttered, “Lord of Death and Decay, First of the Dead? _That_ Nito?”

 

“Yes,” the skull replied.

 

Rickert nodded, clicking his tongue. “…Good to know. Good to know…” He then clapped his hands on his lap, rising to his feet, “I suppose I’ll be off then. Elevator still works right? Okay bye!” He all but shrieked as he hurried away from Garret and the Gravelord.

 

It was only when he was in the safety of the elevator that he his heart started to calm down.

 

**Line Break**

 

Garret hummed joyously as he sauntered through New Londo’s non-flooded sections. “Man, this is _so_ much easier when I don’t have to worry about murderous ghosts.”

 

“Quite,” Nito humorously agreed.

 

“Earlier,” the Undead began, staring out into the distance, “you said that this place was a disaster waiting to happen?”

 

“Ah, yes.” Nito gazed at their surroundings, “Well, the first problem is the location. Gwyn and I were actually in agreement on that—didn’t think it was right to just shunt humans off into a cave, massive it might be.”

 

A snort, “You two actually cared about the well-beings of humans?”

 

“Gwyn more than I.” At Garret’s disbelieving snort, Nito harrumphed, “Despite what you may believe, Gwyn was not a monster. Vindictive, paranoid, ruthless, but he was not needlessly cruel.”

 

“So, what, branding early man to stifle their potential was a kindness?”

 

“Certainly, better than the alternative.”

 

“Oh, let me guess; genocide?” Garret growled.

 

“That is what the Pygmies suggested, yes.”

 

Garret froze. “The Pygmies did what?”

 

“Ah, yet another gap in your knowledge,” Nito mumbled. Aloud, he said, “The Pygmies—the majority, at least—advocated for wiping out your ancestors.”

 

“But…” Garret shook his head, “Wouldn’t early Humans have been their children and grandchildren?”

 

“Yes. But the Pygmies were a timid lot. They didn’t like how the Dark Soul manifested in their progeny. And, though I never personally witnessed it, all efforts to train them ended disastrously.”

 

Garret stopped to lean against a wall. “Then, why didn’t you just kill them all?”

 

“That would be Theus’s doing.”

 

Garret frowned, “Who?”

 

Nito grunted in turn, “You may know him as the ‘Furtive Pygmy’.”

 

“So that’s his name…”

 

“Yes. Picked it himself; awful proud of it too,” Nito said fondly. He then gruffly cleared his throat, “Anyway, his word was law in all matter’s pertaining to his people, and he did not want to kill his descendants. But, again, we could not just let the Human’s run around unimpeded.”

 

Realization dawned on Garret. He gulped, “Are you saying that Furtive Pygmy, the progenitor of mankind, came up with the idea of binding mankind to Fire? It wasn’t just you three?”

 

“Well, we didn’t all advocate their deaths. I abstained from voting on the matter.”

 

“Really?”

 

“I honestly didn’t care, at the time. I was too concerned with perfecting my designs for the Fenito and Milfanito.”

 

“Why aren’t any of them here, actually?” Garret asked.

 

“I sent them away after Pinwheel’s rebellion. Necromancers were still prowling about, and I couldn’t risk their safety. The Milfanito especially,” he huffed softly, “I made them for peace, not war.”

 

Garret nodded in agreement, “They do sing beautiful songs.”

 

Nito hummed fondly, “They do…Quelaag taught them well.”

 

“Quelaag?!” Garret asked with a laugh.

 

“Ah,” if Nito had flesh, he would have blushed, “don’t tell her I told you that.”

 

“We’ll see,” Garret said with a sly smirk.

 

“Speaking of, her mother was in favor of ending mankind.” At Garret’s inquisitive gasp, he added, “She never much liked Humans—nor the Pygmies for that matter. Wasn’t too fond of Giants either, now that I recall. And when she first saw Gwyndolin—heavens I thought Gwyn was going to impale her head upon a spike.”

 

“Gwyn what?”

 

“The Second. Gwyn the Second. He was…protective, of his younger sibling.”

 

“What about Gywnevere?”

 

“What _about_ Gywnevere?” Nito scoffed disgustedly.

 

“And Gwyn himself? In what way did he recommend murdering an entire race?”

 

“Actually,” Nito said, a hint of steel in his voice, “Gwyn supported Theus’s idea.” At Garret’s disbelieving snort, he added, “He harshly admonished Quela for even entertaining such thoughts. Especially in light of all the work the assistance they gave in the war with the Dragons.”

 

“And _branding their souls_ was a fit reward?!”

 

“Hey!” Nito barked, “That wasn’t Gwyn’s idea alone. He and Theus both came up with that specific plan of action. After months of debating and worrying over it!”

 

Garret scoffed, “You keep on defending him! Didn’t you say that he was the one that set up events to kill you?!”

 

“Yes,” Nito solemnly agreed. “In his final years, the Lord of Light grew to become a paranoiac scared of his own shadow, who had no qualms about manipulating his own son and plotting the murders of his oldest allies. But he was still my friend, once. And he always put the needs of the world before his own desires. Even when the rest of us could not.” Nito’s voice grew softer then, vulnerable, “No matter what became of him, he was once my brother. And a part of me will always love him.”

 

Garret grew silent at that. After a long moment, he sighed, “I suppose he wasn’t _too_ terrible. Certainly, better than that majority of the Monarchs that would rise after him…He was still an asshole to Gwyndolin.”

 

“Oh no doubt. On that matter, I will not defend him.” Garret nodded in agreement and continued on his way.

 

**A/N: Splitting this up into two. Swear to god, thought this’d be shorter. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38:

Moving Day

**Dark souls is owned by From Software.**

  * “Talking”
  * “ _Thoughts”_



**“Powerful Beings”**

“Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak”

 

**Line Break**

“Why does a fireplace have a ladder?”

 

“Why build New Londo in a cave?”

 

“Didn’t we go over that?”

 

“Got sidetracked when you told me the Pygmies wanted to eradicate Humans.”

 

“Ah, yes.” Nito grunted, “Well, Gwyn wanted to try and find a different place for the Four Kings to establish the city, but they convinced him otherwise.”

 

“Why’d they want to stay here?” Garret aside incredulously.

 

“Honestly?” Nito shifted slightly, “No one else was doing anything with the space.” Garret wanted to retort but found that he couldn’t. So, he settled for silently climbing up the ladder.

 

Upon reaching the top, and looking around, he spotted Ingward at the far end of the rooftop. Garret slowly made his way to the man. When he was just a few feet behind him, and Ingward still hadn’t turned around, Garret said, “Hello?”

 

The last Sealer whirled around, drawing his blade. Garret quickly held his hands up placatingly. He found himself a little creeped out by Ingward’s beak-shaped mask—which wasn’t helped by the fact that his crimson hood naturally covered up the eyeholes. The two men were silent for a moment, until Ingward relaxed, sheathing his blade. “My apologies,” he said with a short bow, “I don’t normally draw my blade upon a man at first blush, but…” he trailed off.

 

Garret shrugged, dropping his hands, “I saw the lightshow too.”

 

“Yes,” Ingward crossed his arms, turning to stare out into the distance, “In all my years, I’ve never seen such a thing. I’d like to thank whoever did it though,” he added in a lighter tone, “Seems to have done away with all the ghosts.”

 

“Is that my cue?” Nito chimed in from Garret’s chest.

 

Ingward zeroed in on the skull. “…I thought that was merely a macabre decoration.”

 

Nito grunted, “Oh, I’m just hitching a ride for the time being…What did you say his name was?” He directed the question at Garret.

 

“Ingward.” He could see the man in question stiffen

 

“Ah.” Nito returned his attention to the now wary Sealer. “Greetings, Ingward. I am Nito, Lord of Death and Decay,’ the Gravelord intoned. “But you can just call me Nito.”

 

Ingward stared blankly at the skull. He then slowly lifted his head up to look at Garret. Then slowly back down to Nito again. And once more back up to Garret. “You…carry one of the Great Lords on your chest.”

 

“I wanted to wear him on my belt,” Garret said with a smirk.

 

“And I didn’t want to be anywhere near his ass.”

 

“Uh…huh,” Ingward numbly grunted, taking a step backwards. “You…you wouldn’t happen to be the Chosen Undead, would you?”

 

Garret nodded with a wry smirk, “Yes. Has Frampt been gossiping about me?”

 

“I haven’t spoken to the serpent since the bells rang. Is that how you knew my name? Frampt told you to seek me out?”

 

“Oh, no!” Garret said with a short laugh, “Frampt can go die in a ditch, that’s how useful he is to me.”

 

Ingward stilled. “…Then…how—“

 

“I’m a Seer.” Garret quickly interrupted the man. “I saw you down here, along with what it is you guard.”

 

“A Seer you say?” Ingward said disbelievingly, slowly reaching for his weapons, “Frampt didn’t say anything about that. In fact,” he held his dagger close to his body, the tip of his Tin Catalyst pointing towards Garret. “He said he’d meet with me right after ascertaining the state of the Chosen Undead.”

 

Garret’s furrowed his brow at the thinly-veiled accusations. The two men stared at each other for a moment. Garret then said, “Yulva’s corpse is in Blighttown.”

 

Ingward gasped, dagger and catalyst clattering to the ground. “W-What?”

 

Garret shrugged, walking forward and leaning against the railing. “She left right? Her and the third member of your party? Who, I’m sorry to say, is most likely dead as well.”

 

“Sully?” Ingward whispered.

 

“At least, I think so.” He eyed the trembling Sealer, “Is Sully the type to plot to murder a Firekeeper?”

 

“He would never do such a thing!” Ingward immediately hissed.

 

“Then he’s dead,” Garret bluntly stated. “If it helps, I’m probably going to end up killing the guy that, at the very least, stripped his corpse down of all valuables.”

 

“It doesn’t,” Ingward sadly sighed, “But I’d thank you all the same.”

 

Garret shifted on the balls of his feet, “So…can I get the key to unflood New Londo and open the way to the Four Kings?”

 

Ingward slumped his shoulders, as he bent down to pick up his weapons, “Might as well.” Upon securing them on his person, he reached into his robes, pulling out an ornate key. He strode over to Garret, dropping it in the man’s open palm.

 

Garret nodded, then frowned at the man’s depressed demeanor. He winced guiltily, “Sorry for being so…blunt.”

 

“No, no,” Ingward softly said, “It’s fine. I…It’s better that I know the truth than imagine endless scenarios that will never occur.”

 

Garret nodded, “Yeah. I’m trying to be better about the whole ‘honesty’ thing.” At Ingward’s questioning grunt, Garret elaborated, “I refused to tell my friends the whole truth about certain matters. Didn’t want them to despair over the future.” He chuckled bitterly, “Give you three guesses as to how well that turned out.”

 

Ingward hesitantly lifted his hand, and pat Garret’s arm sympathetically, “Were you intentionally malicious?”

 

Garret rolled his eyes, “Of course not. Just…stupid.”

 

“Then I’m sure your friends shall forgive you, in time.”

 

“Most of them have.”

 

“And the ones that haven’t?”

 

Garret lowered his head, “I…if she’ll let me, I need to talk to her at least once more. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but…” he trailed off, unable to put his thoughts into words.

 

“So long as you speak the truth, I’m sure it will work out.”

 

“That’s part of the problem,” Garret softly scoffed.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Garret pocketed the key. “Anyway, there’s, like, six sane people still here in Lordran—well, technically eight. I’m bringing them all up to Anor Londo.” He held out his hand to Ingward, “Feel like coming along?”

 

Ingward hummed, turning to look at the flooded city, “Should you not face the Four Kings first?”

 

“Later.” Ingward sharply turned to look at him. Garret continued, “As long as this place is flooded, they aren’t going anywhere.”

 

“True.” Ingward sighed. Then, he shook Garret’s hand, “Very well. My watch ended the second I gave you the key. Might as well retire to the city of the gods.” Garret smiled softly and pulled back a step to get a homeward bone.

 

“Uh,” Ingward cleared his throat, “About Yulva.”

 

Garret frowned, “What?”

 

“You said she left a corpse?”

 

“Yeah,” Garret nodded, “It’s down in Blighttown.”

 

“Could you…is there any way—“

 

“You want to give her a proper burial,” Garret gently interrupted.

 

“I can perform a funeral without one,” he said, “but I’d rest easier knowing her body is in a safe place.” He then said, “You don’t have to go out of your—“

 

“No, it’s fine,” Garret held his hand up, “I’m heading down to Blighttown to pick up some friends anyway. I can make a quick detour.” A shrug, “I can even try and find that guy I told you about earlier.

 

“Bringing Yulva’s body will be more than enough. You’ve your own mission to complete, and by your own admission, you don’t know where this man is. You don’t have to go out of your way.”

 

Garret nodded, “Alright.” He knelt down, gripping his homeward bone tightly, “Grab on, then.” Ingward did so, placing his hand on Garret’s right shoulder. They disappeared in a golden light.

 

The light didn’t even fully disappear before Pinwheel’s main mask suddenly appeared in front of the Undead. Ingward gasped, but Garret quickly gestured that everything was fine. He then waved the conjoined being away with a scowl, “Not yet.”

 

The Father growled, but a soft nudge from the Mother made him stop.

 

“How much longer until you’re finished?” Leeroy groused, leaning against a pillar.

 

“Just two more people,” Garret said. He turned to Inward, “Take a breather, might be awhile.” Ingward nodded, walking over to the Bonfire. Garret then saw Rickert sitting at the Bonfire, hugging his knees to his chest. “Hey, Rickert!”

 

The sorcerer flinched, “Ah. Hello Garret,” he gulped, “Gravelord.”

 

“Hold on, ‘Gravelord’?” Stanley said from behind them. Garret turned to see him and Rosie sitting near a wall, “That some sort of title.” Stanley, it seemed, had chosen to wear the Holy set’s brown robes, and chainmail leggings.

 

Rosie—wearing the Thief set’s leather armor, pants, and gloves—scowled, lightly snacking his arm. “Not him, you dummy. He’s talking to Lord Nito.” At Stanley’s blank stare, she gestured to the skull dangling from Garret’s chest piece, “The skull attached to his chest!”

 

“Hello!” Nito jovially called out.

 

Stanley’s eyes widened slightly, “You’re wearing one of the Great Lord’s like a fashion accessory?” Garret nodded. “…Okay then.” With that said, Stanley sat down

 

“Wait, that’s it?” Rosie cried. “‘Okay then’,” she mocked, “You have nothing else to say to that revelation?”

 

Stanley shrugged, holding Yulia across his lap, and said nothing.

 

While Rosie needled her old friend, Garret looked down at Nito, “Actually, you don’t have to come with me for these next two guys. You can rest here until we head up to Anor Londo.”

 

Nito shook slightly, “I’m fine. Besides, this is surprisingly comfortable.”

 

“Alright,” Garret said, holding his hand over the Bonfire.

 

**Line Break**

 

“Ugh,” Nito grunted as Garret shook off some, “That was an unpleasant experience.”

 

“Really?” Garret said, wiping off some soot from his pants, “I think it’s quite nice—like huddling up to a hearth, wrapped up in a blanket.”

 

Nito groaned in distaste, “Felt like I was raked through hot coals.”

 

A shrug, “Maybe it’s because you aren’t human.”

 

“Perhaps.” He then grunted, “I hear a hammer striking metal, from below by the sound of it. Another blacksmith?”

 

“Andre,” Garret replied, walking down the stairs.

 

The man in question looked up from his work—halting his hammer strikes—after Garret made it halfway down. “Ah, Garret!” he exclaimed, “Good to see you again.” He then eyed him suspiciously, “You, uh, get everything sorted with your friends?”

 

“Mostly.” His eyes hardened as he looked around the room, “Heard you were housing a couple strays.”

 

Andre grunted, “Emphasis on _were_. They both left for the forest sometime after Oscar and the others entered the fortress.”

 

“You didn’t stop them?”

 

“Couldn’t get them to leave fast enough,” the blacksmith grumbled into his beard

 

 

Garret hummed. He’d have liked to ‘meet’ those two men again; if only to ‘ask’ for Sullivan’s robes and Catalyst. Ah well, he’d come across them sooner or later. Besides, there were more important things to worry about.

 

He moved closer to Andre, only to stop as the man said, “Heard another voice up there with you. Where is he?”

 

Garret grinned, pointing to Nito, “You’re looking at him.”

 

“Hello,” Nito said.

 

Andre leaned back, eyes widening in surprise, “Skeletons can speak?”

 

“I only know—knew,” the sorcerer softly amended, “of one other.”

 

Andre grunted, nodding at the skull, “Don’t suppose you’ve got a name?”

 

“Nito.”

 

Andre chuckled, returning to his work, “Named yourself after the first bone-man himself?”

 

“Not quite,” Nito said slyly.

 

Andre continued hammering. Garret assumed that he’d ignored Nito’s reply and went to nudge the skull to try again. Only to be interrupted by a loud, cacophonous _CLANG_. He looked up to see that Andre’s latest strike had completely missed the mark, barely hitting the edge of the anvil. The blacksmith was staring at Nito, slack-jawed. He then lifted his gaze to stare directly at Garret, “…Seriously?” Garret nodded wordlessly. “…Alright then. To each their own I suppose,” Andre said, voice a tinge nervous.

 

Garret smiled, “Anyway, I’m moving a bunch of people up to Anor Londo, feel like coming with?”

 

Andre hummed thoughtfully, “The City of the Gods, eh?”

 

“The one god,” Garret corrected.

 

“Soon to be two,” Nito added, stifling a chuckle along with Garret.

 

Andre looked between the two, before saying, “Why not?” He rose to his feet, dropping his hammer through a belt loop, “It’ll be a good test of my abilities to try and decipher the secrets of the gods themselves.” He turned around, bending down to place various things in a chest.

 

“Oh, there’s already blacksmith set-up there,” Garret said.

 

Andre stopped packing. He looked over his shoulder, “There is?”

 

“Boram,” Nito replied, “the finest blacksmith the Giant race ever produced.”

 

“A _giant_ you say?” Andre stroked his beard, “Always wanted to meet one of them.” He frowned, “Would he welcome me, though?”

 

Nito hummed, “Of course! Boram loves company.”

 

Andre nodded, and returned to his previous task, “So, what?” He said over his shoulder, “Am I climbing up that fortress with you?”

 

“Oh, I can teleport using Bonfires now,” Garret replied.

 

Andre paused. He turned, brow furrowed, “Now how’s that work?”

 

Garret shrugged, “I just squat by the fire and hold out my hand.”

 

“Is it safe?”

 

“No one’s died yet.”

 

Andre sent him a blank stare, which Garret reciprocated with a wide smile. The larger man then rolled his eyes, grumbling something Garret couldn’t catch into his beard. Aloud, he said, “So, we’ll head up to the Bonfire here, then?”

 

The Seer shook his head, “You should head down to Firelink Shrine, actually. I’m taking you all up at the same time.”

 

“Ah,” Andre nodded, “Makes sense. Why make multiple trips, after all.” He waved them off, “In that case, I’ll meet you down there in a bit.”

 

Garret nodded, “Be seeing you, Andre,” and left without another word. He still had one last person to see.

 

**Line Break**

Garret squinted as he stepped out to the church rooftop. After adjusting to the change in light, swept his gaze across the rooftop.

 

“Hmm,” Nito hummed, “that’s a pretty view.”

 

Garret briefly looked down at his companion, noting that he was looking to their left. Garret turned accordingly and grunted. It certainly was a pretty view. Peaceful. As if the world itself wasn’t half to shit and on the precipice of Darkness.

 

“…We wanted to travel the world.” Garret cocked a brow at his friend’s words but stayed silent. “When we first got our Souls. Me, Gwyn, Quela, Theus, we just wanted to…go!” he said breathlessly. “To leave the First Flame’s grasp and see what lay beyond the roots that hung above us.”

 

“But there were Dragons.”

 

“But there were Dragons,” Nito solemnly agreed. He was silent for a moment, “When we first met, you said something about the world being fine under the Dragon’s rule.” The Undead nodded slowly. “You’re wrong.” He didn’t say it with anger, or any sort of passion. No, Nito spoke the words as surely and easily as one would say the sky was blue. “Before the Flame, things may have been fine, but afterwards…” he trailed off with a shudder. “Do you know of the world before the First Flame, when the Dragons ruled?”

 

Garret frowned, “Somewhat. It was,” he paused to put his thoughts to words, “a foggy world of no Color, only Grays. A world without Heat or Cold. Light or Dark.”

 

“Such is the way Seath described it.”

 

Garret was about to make a snarky reply, only to pause upon realizing that, of all the people that fought with the Four Lords against the dragons, Seath _was_ the only one that lived in a world before the Flame. A strange thought, to be sure.

 

“The Dragons,” Nito continued, “lived stagnant, empty lives. There was no conflict, no change. They lived up in their towering Archtrees, uncaring of all else.”

 

“And then the Flame appeared,” Garret said.

 

“And then the Flame appeared.” Nito grunted, “Do you know why it did so? None of us were able to figure it out.”

 

Garret tutted his tongue, thinking. “Best I can figure…it was the just the next stage of life. If the Dragons lived in an Age of Fog, then with the Flame came the Age of Fire.” He scoffed, “After that was supposed to be the Age of Dark, but well…” he trailed off, giving Nito a pointed stare.

 

The Gravelord huffed, “Yes, yes, we messed up. Getting back on track,” he hummed for a moment. “Ah, yes. So, as you can imagine, the appearance of the Flame created all these new experiences for the Dragons. For the first time in their lives, they could _see_ how they and their world really looked.”

 

Garret gasped, “Don’t tell me…Did Seath not know that he was Scaleless before the Flame?”

 

Nito shook in place, “He did not.”

 

“But…even without color, they could see that he was different. _Feel_ that he was different.”

 

“You would think so,” Nito said with a bark of laughter. “But, while all Dragons—aside from Seath, possess scales, some have other attributes atop them. Fur, feathers, spikes. But when you get down to it, really dig down a Dragon’s skin, they all had a layer of tough scales. Seath, however, did not. When he dug down to find his hidden scales, he bled.”

 

“He didn’t do that before?”

 

“There was no need to,” Nito simply replied, “Dragons are very long-lived. I’m pretty sure they didn’t have a concept of death before we came along.”

 

Garret nodded wordlessly. He then asked, “Why’d he side with you? Did the dragon’s mock him for his deformity, make him hate his own kind?”

 

“That’s what he told us. To be honest,” Nito’s voice gained an edge, “I’d always doubted his motives. But, in the end, he was of great help to our cause. He’s the one who directed Quela and her Daughters to burn down the Archtrees. Yes,” he hummed wistfully, “it was around then that we turned to war in our favor.”

 

“Well, the Lightning couldn’t have hurt. Oh!” Garret looked down, “Before I forget. Did Seath tell you about the Lightning weakness?”

 

“That was good old-fashioned luck, actually. Not even Seath could tell us how to how to easily break apart his kin’s scales. Gwyn had developed the ability to create Lightning, he tested it against a couple Dragon’s and…well, you know the rest.”

 

Garret nodded and let Nito reminisce for a bit longer. He then gently nudged the skull, “Ready to move on?” Nito grunted wordlessly, and Garret walked across the rooftop towards Oswald.

 

 When he entered the Bell tower, the Priest turned to look at them. He could see the man’s eyes widen behind his mask. “Well, well,” Oswald drawled, “this is quite interesting.”

 

“Yeah,” Garret smirked, gesturing to Nito, “trying to start a trend. Think I’ll call it, ‘Carting the Dead’.”

 

“That’s a terrible name,” Nito instantly replied.

 

“Oh, have you got anything better?”

 

“Yes. ‘Skull Bearing’.”

 

“…Eh, six-out-of-ten.”

 

“Excuse you! That’s at least an eight.”

 

“Maybe down in the Catacombs. Up here, we have standards.”

 

“Actually,” Oswald spoke-up, pointing at Garret, “I was speaking of you, specifically.”

 

A frown, “What about me?”

 

“My boy, you positively _reek_ of Sin.”

 

Garret stilled. “Um…I haven’t—well,” he chuckled grimly, “I suppose I left Petrus for dead.”

 

“Oh no, nothing so base!” Oswald crooned, “No, your Sins are of a much more… _personal_ nature.” Garret gulped, clenching his fists. “The Sin of Betrayal.” Oswald took a deep breath, “Yes, the worst possible Sin, some say.” Oswald stepped back, spreading his arms wide, “But fear not; there is no misdoing I cannot Absolve you of.”

 

Garret scoffed, “As fun as that would be, I don’t think I could afford your services.” Oswald smiled wickedly. “Plus,” Garret looked down, voice hollow, “I highly doubt some fancy prayers are going to erase what I’ve done.”

 

Oswald stared curiously at Garret for a moment. He then shrugged, “Very well. Bear the weight of your Sin’s upon you back until they crush you. Or the Sinned against party seeks retribution.”

 

The sorcerer’s throat dried, but he managed to roll his eyes, “Sure, whatever.” He then said, “I’m taking people up to Anor Londo. As in, everyone that’s still down here is going up. You should come too. After all, it’d be easier to Absolve people the closer you are to them.”

 

A scoff, “Do you know anything about Absolution, boy?” Before Garret could respond, Oswald continued, “It means nothing if one does not work for it.”

 

“He’s not wrong,” Nito chimed in. “Velka was adamant that one proves themselves committed to Absolving their Sins before she’d even consider doing so. Of course, her idea of ‘proving yourself’ involved either a great deal of physical pain or a large payment in her name.”

 

“Frugality and physical perseverance are fantastic indicators of one’s willingness to change,” the priest replied stoically.

 

“Sure, sure,” Nito said with a laugh, “And turning people into crows is a fitting punishment for failing to prove such willingness.”

 

“Say what?” Garret deadpanned.

 

“Oh yes,” Nito said, “forcibly morphing people who failed to meet her standards was her go-to punishment.” He huffed lightly, “She _said_ that it was just that, a punishment. But I think she was just a sadist. Death gets the point across easily enough.”

 

“The dead,” Oswald said with an edge, “lack the chance to change themselves. To impact the world.”

 

“I don’t think bipedal bird-men could change much of anything either.”

 

Oslwad’s lips twisted into a small snarl, “You…I’m sorry,” he broke off into a small laugh, “who and _what_ are you?”

 

Nito grinned, “Nito. Lord of Death and Decay.”

 

Oswald sucked in a breath, “Ah…that would explain a lot.” The priest sniffed, crossing his arms, “You’re still wrong.”

 

Before the two could start another argument, Garret said, “There’s this really tall building in Anor Londo. The only way to reach it is by riding an elevator and carefully walking along the rafters or jumping off a bridge and balancing on an archway. There are also a bunch of guards that really like throwing daggers into people.” He gestured to the man, “Does that sound like enough of a challenge for sinners seeking Absolution?”

 

Oswald hummed, rubbing his chin. “…I suppose so.”

 

“Great!” Garret exclaimed, walking forward and clapping Oswald on the shoulder. “Let’s get you down the elevator to Firelink!”

 

“Sure, sure.” Oswald walked past Garret but paused as he stood under the tower’s entryway. He turned, peering at Undead, “Are you _sure_ you don’t want Absolution? The Sin of Betrayal…it’s not a light one.”

 

Garret furrowed his brow, “I already told you, giving you Souls and a fancy prayer won’t erase what I’ve done. It’s not your forgiveness I need, anyway,” he softly stated.

 

“Well, have you sought forgiveness from the wronged party?”

 

Garret smiled bitterly, “She left as I was telling her how I’d wronged her.”

 

Oswald regarded Garret silently. He then said, “Either gain her forgiveness yourself, or allow me to Absolve you. I promise you, putting it off will only lead badly.”

 

Garret scowled, “Think I don’t know that?”

 

“The man has a point,” Nito softly affirmed. “I don’t know enough about space-time, but Dusk can’t have too much time left before Oolacile falls.” If Oswald found anything interesting about Nito’s statement, he didn’t say it.

 

Garret sighed. He languidly cocked a brow at the skull, “How much do you know about that, anyway.”

 

“Too little,” Nito growled. “Like when Quela failed to recreate the First Flame, allowing Chaos to envelop Izalith, the Abyss blocked Oolacile from my sight. All I know is that the city was destroyed and Artorias died halting the Abyss.”

 

“Well,” Garret laughed mirthlessly, “you’re mostly right.” Nito hummed but said nothing. Not that Garret would have responded; he was too busy thinking of what was to come. He reached into his satchel and pulled out Dusk’s ring. He held it up, gently rubbing the green gemstone. “Hey, Nito,” Garret eventually said, “mind if I have some privacy?”

 

“By all means,” the Gravelord replied.  Garret nodded, unhooking Nito form his chest. He held the skull out to Oswald, who hesitantly moved forward, only to stop as Nito said, “No, no. Just put me down.”

 

Garret did so. The Lord of Death and Decay opened his maw, gray fog pouring out and pooling along the floor. The fog spread out a couple feet and rose to fully cover the skull. Then, a loud _CRACK_ , as if the ground itself was breaking apart. Briefly, Garret nervously darted his eyes to the floor—they were on a roof, after all. But his worries were unfounded, for there were no cracks spreading along the floor. Instead, a misshapen, steel-gray blade shot out from the middle of the fog. It looked remarkably like Nito’s sword-arm, but much smaller. The blade rose, revealing that it was fused to several long bones, which also rose up. It was then followed by a skeletal arm, which found purchase on the ground, and quickly pulled up the rest of the attached skeleton. Once he rose to its full height, Nito rolled his shoulders, bones clacking. “Whew,” he sighed, “been a while since I’ve done that. Feels like something’s missing, though…Ah!” he snapped his bony fingers—which sounded more like smacking two sticks together, “of course!” He held his good hand out, curling it into a fist. The fog hovering on the ground swirled upwards, covering Nito head-to-toe. Then, a layer of fog fell away, revealing that Nito was wrapped in a large, tattered gray robe, which covered all but his feet, sword-arm, and skull.

 

Oswald spoke first. “Thank you,” he said, “I don’t think I could stomach carrying the skull of a Lord like a coin purse.”

 

“Eh,” Nito planted his sword on the ground, leaning against it, “it’s not for everyone.” He turned to look at Garret. His face, obviously, showed no change, but his posture softened a touch. “…Good luck,” he said.

 

Garret nodded silently in response.

 

“Well,” Nito lifted his sword, resting it on his shoulder, “Guess we should be moving on.”

 

“Yes,” Oswald stepped aside to let Nito by.  “I must ask,” he began, walking side-by-side with the Gravelord, “you run a Covenant, do you not? For humans?”

 

“Ah yes,” Nito laughed, “my Servant’s. Open for all races, all across the world. It’s actually rare for a human to join, but it has happened. Why do you ask?”

 

“Before I came here, I’d met a few people that wished to abandon the Covenant. None elaborated why, and it’s rude to ask. But since you’re here…” the priest trailed off.

 

Nito grunted, “Well, it’s dreary work. Their main task is tending graves—protecting them from unsavory sorts, sure, but mostly keeping everything tidy...” Nito’s voice grew quieter as they pair continued across the roof.

 

Ordinarily, Garret would like to catch up with them, learn some more details to fill in the gaps in his knowledge. But as he stared down at Dusk’s ring, he knew that he had something far more important to do.

 

He stepped out onto the rooftop, staring out into the distance. He thought of the several ways the conversation could go, and none of them were particularly confidence-boosting. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it. He had no choice but to do it.

 

It was only when he heard the faint sound of the elevator going down to Firelink Shrine that he slipped the ring onto his finger.

 

For a brief moment, nothing happened, and Garret’s heart fell with the idea that Dusk had disenchanted the ring—he didn’t want to entertain the idea that he was too late. But then, he felt a pull in his gut, and a pillar of light erupted a few feet in front of him.

 

Things were immediately off to a bad start. Dusk, instead of glaring at Garret with unbridled fury, just looked…sad. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was a mess, her clothes were wrinkled and dirty. Briefly, her nostrils flared, and her brow furrowed. But then her face just fell, and she turned away from him, crossing her arms.

 

Garret gulped audibly, taking a swig of Estus for good measure. “You, uh,” he hesitantly began, “you left before I could finish.” Dusk didn’t respond, only holding herself closer. Garret was tempted to let her go; neither of them wanted to be here. But that would be a mistake. Thus, he said, “So, obviously, people notice that something’s going to happen in Oolacile. But I guess that don’t realize how bad it is, because they only send Artorias. Well, he took Sif with him. And Ciaran followed closely because she was worried for his safety, I guess. Course, it makes you wonder—” he stopped when Dusk looked over her shoulder, glaring at him. He grimaced, “Sorry, rambling. Anyway, uh…Artorias goes to Oolacile, traverses what’s left,” he ignores her harsh flinch, “and faces off against Manus. The monster that—”

 

“I remember its name!” she snapped, turning back away from him.

 

“Right, right.” Garret pursed his lips, and he trembled as he said. “He fails. Manus utterly destroys Artorias, and he falls before he has a chance to rescue you.”

 

Just then, Dusk burst into a peal of laughter. A mad, haunting, mockery of laughter which echoed into the distance. She turned around, and Garret’s heart clenches at the tears streaming down her cheeks, face twisted in a snarl of fury. “This is what you dragged me here to tell me? To tell me that my would-ne rescuer _fails_?! You’re a monster!” she cried, “How can you be so heartless, to give me a shred of hope, only to tear it down just as swiftly?! I don’t know how I ever thought you could be good you _vile, selfish_ —"

 

“Artorias may fail,” Garret said above her accusations, “but I don’t.”

 

Dusk stoped midsentence. She sniffled, wiping at some tears. “What?” she rasps.

 

Garret sighed, drinking some Estus and pacing on the roof. “Manus…loses something. A pendant. It breaks in half and both pieces leave Oolacile. I don’t really know how, but he’s got some way of tearing through space-time to look for them.” He stopped, staring Dusk dead in her eyes, “I’m going to find one half of it in Seath’s Archives. And when I’m done there, Manus will forcibly take me to Oolacile, and then I’ll kill him, and rescue you.”

 

Dusk gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth. “Good gods…you’re serious.”

 

Garret nodded gravely. “Yes. I,” he looked out into the distance, “I’ve always known that I’d travel back to Oolacile. Save you from Manus. That you’d be safe. It’s not an excuse,” he hurriedly said, “I still should have told you from the start…” he trailed off, looking down. He sighed forlornly, “Ah, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. But,” he clenched his fists, lifting his head up and staring determinedly at his friend, “I need you to know that I will _never_ stop until you’re free from his grasp.”

 

Dusk grew silent, dropping her hands to her sides. Then, she whispered, “Send me back, Garret. Please.”

 

Garret nodded, reaching for the ring. But before he pulled it off, he said, “Dusk, I,” he angrily scrubbed away his tears, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m really, truly sorry.”

 

She merely nodded, not saying a word.

 

Garret’s heart trembled, but he took off the ring. Dusk was quickly surrounded in golden light, her body disappearing back to her true timeline. She stared him dead in the eye as she vanished from sight.

 

Garret let out a breath, shoulders slumping. He rubbed away a few more tears, and carefully put Dusk’s ring back in his satchel.

 

The trip back down to Firelink was uneventful. Upon arriving, Pinhweel once more floated right up against him. Garret, not in the mood to entertain the conjoined being, scowled, shouting “Yes, yes, we’re leaving! God, don’t you ever let up!” Pinwheel recoiled, and he could hear the Child whimper lightly. Whatever anger Garret held quickly faded. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, “Just…let’s get the others.”

 

Nito, who was still in his humanoid-form, slowly walked over. “Are you alright?” he asked, dropping his good hand on the sorcerer’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” Garret none-too-gently brushed past Nito, “Let’s just get going.”

 

**Line Break**

 

“Oof!” Rosie wheezed as she landed in a heap, “that wasn’t a fun experience.”

 

Stanely, who’d managed to keep his footing after exiting the Bonfire, nodded jerkily, “I’ve actually been lit on fire, and that was much less painful.” Leeroy, Andre, Rickert, Ingward, Nito, Oswald, and even Pinwheel all concurred with their assessment.

 

Garret rolled his eyes, “Oh please, you’re just being a bunch of babies.”

 

“They have a point,” Garret turned to see Solaire, and Ornstein—who was tightly gripping his spear—standing near the stairs leading down to Gwyndolin. Solaire continued, “Being lit on fire—it’s not a pleasant experience.”

 

Garret cocked a brow, “When have you been lit on fire?”

 

“Oh,” Solaire waved his hand, “it was before we met. I’d just discovered I was Undead after surviving a particularly deadly stab from a spear.” He grimaced, “My fellow knights were…zealously cautious.”

 

Stanley whistled lowly, “That’s rough, friend.”

 

“Indeed…” the Astoran said solemnly. He then perked up, “Have we met? Garret said he was gathering people from Anor Londo, but I’ve never seen you before.”

 

Garret was about to answer, only for Ornstein to interrupt with a snarl, “Enough of this! What the hell,” he sharply pointed his spear at Pinwheel, “is that thing?”

 

Pinwheel growled lowly but stopped as Garret help up a placating hand. “This is Pinwheel. They’re…a friend.”

 

Ornstein grunted, “Pinwheel? I know that name…”

 

“ **It is the name of the conjoined abomination which attacked Gravelord Nito** ,” Gwyndolin’s voice suddenly boomed around them.

 

“Who the—”

 

“Ignore him,” Garret said to Rosie, scowling at the air.

 

“ **Ornstein get rid of it.** ”

 

Garret shouted, stomping his foot on the ground, “Oh, come the fuck on!”

 

“ **Be silent, Seer!** ”

 

“Right back at you, asshole!” Garret spat.

 

The air shook, “ **Do not push me, _mortal_. You have your uses, but do not presume to order a God**.”

 

“My oh my,” Nito chuckled darkly, moving a few steps ahead of Garret, “Sounds like someone’s finally found their spine. **Congratulations, Gwyndolin**.”

 

The lone god and Ornstein gasped. “Y-You,” Ornstein stammered.

 

In lieu of responding, Nito sighed, black mist slowly pouring out of his skull.

 

Instead of scurrying away like everyone else, Garret rolled his eyes. “Yo, Nito! Can we speed this up? I still got places to be.”

 

The fog surrounding the Lord of Death stilled. “… **Fine** ,” he sighed. Within seconds, an ungodly amount of mist exploded from his body, covering the room in black mist.

 

Garret fell back with a yelp, glaring at the darkness. “You did that on purpose!” he glowered.

 

A chuckled sounded from the darkness, followed by the sound of rushing wind. Within the blink of an eye, the black fog was swirled into Nito’s maw—the Gravelord himself having returned to his true, giant height. “ **I need to get my fun _somehow_ ,”** the Gravelord said with a snicker.

 

“I think we have very different definitions of fun,” Garret heard Solaire mutter.

 

“ **Ornstein!** ” Nito suddenly called. The Knight said nothing, merely tightening his grip on his spear, “ **Please escort the human woman, Rosalie** ,” Rosie squeaked something unintelligible, “ **down to the sewers and back up**.”

 

Ornstein stayed silent.

 

The massive skeletal mass scoffed, “ **Oh please, be reasonable! If I were going to cause you harm, do you not think I would have done so already?** ”

 

Gwyndolin answered, “ **Your ways are insidious and secretive, Gravelord!** ” the Lone God hissed. “ **We shall not allow you to subvert Anor Londo and** —”

 

“ **Oh, stuff it!** ” Nito barked back. “ **I take back what I said about a spine, because you’re _clearly_ still riding your father’s coattails!** ” He swept his sword-arm wide, forcing Ornstein back a couple steps, **“Tell me this, Child; when have I _ever_ , in all the years you have known me, expressed something as base as _jealousy_ or _envy_ over Anor Londo?”**

 

“ **I…Y** ou **…** ” Gwyndolin faltered.

 

Nito huffed, casting his gaze around the room, “… **This isn’t a conversation meant for an audience** ,” he grumbled. He jerked his head at Ornstein, “ **Ornstein, I’m not asking twice**.”

“…Of course, Lord Nito,” the Captain slowly ground out. He briskly walked past the humans, taking a moment to gesture his spear at Rosie. “Come,” he commanded. Rosie gulped, only moving forward when Stanley reassuringly pat her back, walking along with her.

 

The Seer then gestured at Oswald, “Take the elevator to the top, and you’ll find a way to the rafters of the building to the right. Alternatively, you could ride up to the main walkway, walk away from the main building, and make your way across an archway to a broken window.” Oswald bowed wordlessly and walked away.

 

“Solaire,” the knight perked up, “could you escort,” he vaguely gestured behind him “everyone else back to the main building? I’ll leave you all to introduce yourselves. Oh!” he reached into his satchel, pulling out Vamos’s Ember, “and take this to Boram—the Blacksmith to the left of the—”

 

“We’ve met,” Solaire said, grabbing the Ember.

 

“Where’d you get that?” Andre asked from the crowd.

 

Garret lazily waved his hand, “Leeroy can tell you.” Without waiting for another response, he turned to the Gravelord. “Nito,” the Lord of Death and Decay looked over his shoulder, “good luck.”

 

The mass of bones nodded, striding for Gwyndolin’s abode. After taking a moment to ensure the Solaire wasn’t overwhelmed—by Pinwheel—Garret crouched down at the Bonfire, extending his right hand towards it. The fire shimmered, and a red-toned image of Queleia’s Bonfire came into focus. He closed his eyes, leaning forward a touch, and let the Flame wash over him.

 

He really didn’t feel anything terrible. Maybe it was a little too warm, but it wasn’t like he’d been lit on fire—an experience he was able to relate to, unfortunately. Perhaps, he mused, it was because he was a Pyromancer. Something about having a Flame within them that made the experience more bearable. He’d have to ask Laurentius about it later, after he’d taken a trip as well.

 

The warm feeling started to lessen, and the Seer opened his eyes to find himself in the Fair Lady’s abode.

 

“Ah, Garret,” he heard the titular woman rasp, “hello, again.” G

 

He turned, smiling, “Hey, Queleia. You too, Eingyi,” he said to the infected man. The exiled-Pyromancer grunted, saying nothing. The Chosen Undead took note of the otherwise empty room, “Are they _still_ trying to take on the Centipede Demon?”

 

Queleia shook her head, “No, they completed that task a bit ago. Quelarron was very happy, from what Quelana told me.”

 

“Good,” Garret smiled softly, “That’s good. At least something’s going right,” he said beneath his breath. At her questioning hum, he replied, “It’s nothing…Guess this means they decided to seek out your remaining sister?”

 

The Fair Lady frowned a bit, “Yes…Quelaag wasn’t very hopeful about it.”

 

“That’s fair,” Garret was of a mind. If she didn’t try to kill them outright, she’d definitely attack them when she found out that they were going to kill the Bed of Chaos. Eventually, at least.

 

He then stretched his back, groaning lightly, “Well, might as well clean out Blighttown while we’re waiting.”

 

Garret, you can—“

 

“It’s fine,” he gently interrupted the Daughter of Chaos, “I need to grab a couple things anyway.” He huffed, “ _Maybe light the Bonfire leading to Ash Lake while I’m at it._ ” Aloud, he said, “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

 

Queleia and Eingyi both gave their goodbyes, and he left without another word.

**A/N: I didn’t expect this arc to last as long as it did. Like, jeez…Next, an interim in Anor Londo, and then a bit of a rewind to capture Havel’s adventures in Izalith. Be sure to leave a review. Later.**

 


End file.
